"All right, man."

I hung up with Quinn and dialed our manager, Gavin. After a few rings he picked up, sounding somehow both relieved and stressed. I could hear his a.s.sistant in the background, angrily talking on the phone with someone else. "Good G.o.dd.a.m.n, Noah, where in the h.e.l.l have you been?"

"Jesus, you guys act like the planet's exploding because I can't be reached twenty-four-seven."

"The planet is exploding."

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I heard. That's why I'm calling."

"I'm trying to call an emergency meeting together in the office in Seattle right now, but Mister Hot s.h.i.t can't be bothered to answer his phone since his interview went live," said Gavin, venom in his voice like I'd never heard before. "And it's the same story with Ash and Jeff."

Even though I knew it was bulls.h.i.t in my gut, I tried to stick up for the other guys. Nothing in our past suggested Ash and Jeff had it out for me like Duke did. We didn't always get along, but no bands did. You were lucky to keep your s.h.i.t together long enough for a few good alb.u.ms and enough industry recognition to get you into another band or a respectable job behind the scenes when it all inevitably fell apart. The only way bands like Sabbath and Metallica and Motrhead made it through half-centuries of success was by being filthy rich, and completely f.u.c.ked up all the G.o.dd.a.m.n time. And depending on the musician, that level was either their ultimate Valhalla, or a s.h.i.tty purgatory of walking death. For me, it was certainly the latter. I'd rather have something short and meaningful than vapid and endless.

"We are technically on break," I said to Gavin. "They could be legitimately relaxing somewhere away from all this bulls.h.i.t."

"Is that what you're doing?" said Gavin. The question wasn't accusatory, but he was trying to make a point regardless. "Do you feel relaxed, Noah? Like you're on vacation?"

"f.u.c.k no."

"Neither do the rest of us. If those guys aren't answering my calls, it's strategic. They don't want to answer," said Gavin.

"Why wouldn't they want to answer you?" I asked.

Gavin spoke quietly to his a.s.sistant in the background for a moment, a mumbled gibberish I couldn't hear. He came back to the phone. "Probably because they're planning a coup."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "What? Like you're a f.u.c.king dictator, or some s.h.i.t?"

"Duke's pulling the rug out from under you by doing this, Noah. You see that, don't you? He's declaring he has no faith in your innocence."

"Of course."

"And now, two of your other bandmates aren't getting back to their manager-even in this time of crisis when their very jobs and futures are at stake. It means they're making their own plans, and they don't want me, or you, in on those plans."

Gavin had a flair for drama, and we had all gotten used to it. But this felt different. The truth of his words descended down on me like a heavy gray cloud. "You think maybe they're... working with Duke against me?" The thought was frankly almost too much to bear.

"Maybe," said Gavin. "Or maybe they saw the video this morning like the rest of us and are starting to think he's at least got the right idea. Whatever it is, they're not confident enough to face me over it. Something's wrong, and we need to figure out what it is before the rest of the f.u.c.king world does. We cannot afford another sneak attack like Rogers pulled today."

My stomach felt empty and hollow. The soft pitter of the rain outside made it feel like the room was closing in on me.

Anger. Find your anger.

In my mind, I replayed the day of the festival. Traumatic as it was, it also galvanized me. The truth had to be the fire that kept me raging on.

"Let them run," I said. "I don't f.u.c.king need them. Quinn has my back, and you have my back. The truth will come out."

Gavin sighed. "I want to believe that, Noah."

A sour hollow opened up in my gut. "Gavin, if you're telling me you don't believe me..."

"Hey, whoa, that's not what I'm saying at f.u.c.king all," said Gavin, and I believed him. I trusted him completely. He had never done me wrong, not for a single second since he found me in the Graveyard Club almost fifteen years ago. "What I want to believe is that everyone else will get on board. I don't know that they will. Every day that pa.s.ses is going to make it harder and harder to convince people of your side of the story. People are eating this story up."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, of course they are. Every single bar fight and bulls.h.i.t tussle with the cops I've ever been in has just been a step toward this moment to them. It's high f.u.c.king drama."

"I'd agree, and even be a little thrilled at the exposure, if I wasn't sincerely concerned about you spending time in a federal prison," said Gavin. Hearing the words said out loud made me drop my head in my hands, sick to my stomach.

Gavin continued. "There are things that even I can't untangle. But we're going to fight tooth and nail to keep that from happening, Noah, all right? I have your back. I'm not just going to let you fall down for this without drawing blood."

A wave of sincere relief melted down my skin. "Thank you. I would be f.u.c.ked without you."

"We'll get you through this. I hate to run but I have a meeting. Call me if you hear from any of the guys."

"Will do," I said, and hung up.

Quiet descended on the room like slow death. For what felt like days, I sat at the edge of the bed and watched the rain roll down the windows. Food would help my mood, I knew, but I couldn't make my feet move for the kitchen.

Instead I looked at my clock and saw, thanks to my sleeping in, that I only had a few short hours before Laurel would be expecting me at the Graveyard Club. And through all the gray numbness trying to swallow me whole, the thought of her red-lipped smile shone like the sun.

It was the best-h.e.l.l, the only reason I had not to crawl right back into bed and sleep the storm away.

I carried far dirtier thoughts of her with me to the shower.

~ Seven ~

Laurel

Noah and I hadn't exchanged numbers, so I had no idea what time he might expect me at the Graveyard Club. To play it safe, I went with the fashionably late option, showing up just as the first band was ending their set. Tonight clearly wasn't a hardcore showcase. Instead I watched a beautiful young woman and her long-haired male partner arrange a modest acoustic setup with guitars, a bucket drum, and a cello. The music was mellow and lovely, her voice a deep, jazzy timbre, but it concerned me that maybe Noah wouldn't be showing up for a show like this. Maybe he had just been paying lip service in automatic reflex to what he figured was a groupie.

Panic hit my chest. For the first time, I considered that eventuality: what if he doesn't come back? I'd been so caught up in last night's success-and its dirtier memories-that it didn't even hit me for a moment that Noah might just flat out disappear on me. After all, if he was the womanizing bad boy he had the reputation for, what would keep him from finding an easier, better piece of a.s.s for the night?

The thoughts started to drag me down a bit. I mumbled a curse to myself under my breath as I took the shot of Jameson that Kevin put down in front of me.

"What's that, darlin'?" he said.

"Oh." I coughed a little. "Sorry, I was just talking to myself." Wait, what was I thinking? This was perfect. I wasn't going to let Noah not showing up stop me from getting my s.h.i.t done, and Kevin was probably a gold mine of a source. "Actually, I wanted to say this is a nice setup you've got out here."

Kevin beamed. "You're a pretty little flatterer! I know she's a s.h.i.thole. But she's my s.h.i.thole." He laughed.

I laughed with him. "I just mean it's nice to see an independent place with some roots still fighting the good fight around here. I can't believe how much the city has changed."

Kevin put down the gla.s.s he was drying and leaned on the counter toward me. "Oh, that it has." He shook his head ruefully. "It's tough out there. But whatever voodoo's out in these woods, it keeps us going, and I'm gonna be here until it stops."

I smiled. "I like the way you think."

"So, you waiting for Noah?" He didn't even try to hide the sly smile on his face.

My cheeks flushed red for reasons I didn't quite understand. "Yeah. I mean, I guess. I can't get a hold of him if he decides to flake out on me, so it might just be you and me tonight, Kev."

Kevin laughed at that. "Oh, that ain't gonna happen. Him, flake out on a girl like you? Nah. He wouldn't have invited you back here if he was gonna flake out."

"What makes you say that?"

Kevin waved his hands around, like he was showing off the bar at an open house. "This place is practically his second home, so he's not gonna ask the D-squad to keep showing up, if you know what I mean," he said with a wink.

The thought of Noah trying to keep me hanging around his second home warmed me up inside. "He's been coming here for a long time, huh?"

"A long time!" said Kevin. "He was just a skinny, p.i.s.sed-off fifteen-year-old sneaking into shows when I first met him."

I laughed. "Now that is hard to picture."

"Couldn't keep the little f.u.c.ker out of here. But he wasn't like some of the little punks sneaking in, trying to get wasted. He didn't care less about the booze. He just wanted to see the shows. So I stopped trying to keep him out after a while, and wouldn't you know it, he just... never really left."

The memory was overwhelmingly adorable, and it began doing heavy battle with the idea of Noah I already had planted in my head-mean, selfish, murderous Noah Hardy, always looking for a fight until the day he finally went too far. Could that really be the same scrawny Noah sneaking into hardcore shows? Had his love for the music turned into something so twisted and upsetting that he would lash out at an innocent person? I couldn't reconcile the ideas. Especially not after last night.

Or was I just making the same mistake I made before, and getting too close?

"It's clear he really loves this place, and you," I said. "It's nice to see that kind of loyalty nowadays."

Kevin's expression turned serious. "There's not a G.o.dd.a.m.n person out there as loyal as Noah Hardy. That kid would run into a burning building to get someone out of it and then pay their medical bills. The only reason this place isn't more of a s.h.i.thole is all because of him."

"What do you mean?"

"All I ever have to do is call Noah if something around here needs fixing, and bam-he's got it taken care of the next day. Two years ago, he gave our sound system a complete overhaul. He was on leave from tour once when I threw my back out, and he spent his vacation runnin' the place himself until I was back on my feet. That couch you guys..." Kevin suddenly stopped, and gave an embarra.s.sed, but sly, cough. "That couch in the green room? Noah bought it for us."

I was legitimately blown away by what Kevin was saying. Plenty of huge rock stars took care of their families and things, and some made big spectacles of giving to charity. But even as one of the industry's more high-tier journalists, I had never heard a single peep about Noah Hardy ever taking care of anyone. He never talked about Kevin or the Graveyard Club in any interview I ever read, and that was after three solid days of archive-digging and research until my eyes were so dry they hurt. But clearly, this place was Noah's soul.

It hit me in that moment that Noah was protecting it. He didn't talk about the Graveyard Club because he knew what happened when fame hit a little place like this. It didn't always go the way of iconic clubs like the Viper Room. Sometimes fame destroyed things, and it was clear Noah never wanted to take that risk with this second home of his.

All of a sudden, the image of Noah Hardy in my mind seemed a lot blurrier.

"He really does sound like a special guy," I said to Kevin. The words from my own mouth surprised me, but there was no lie in them.

"He is," said Kevin. "And I'm lucky to have him around."

I smiled at Kevin. "I'm glad you do."

"So, what brings you out this way? I don't think I've ever seen you in here before."

Kevin's question froze me up for just a minute, but I was practiced at this. I took a sip of beer before I answered. "I just moved here about a month ago, trying to get in on the local scene. One of the dudes at Silver Spoons Records told me to check you out."

"Ah, Brad, that son of a b.i.t.c.h," said Kevin with a grin. He slapped his dish towel on the counter. "Always lookin' out. I'm glad you found the place. You need another shot? Noah's tab never closes."

I laughed and nodded, "h.e.l.l, in that case, bring me two."

Kevin walked away to fulfill my request. Over the sound of the gentle folksy music coming from the stage, the door to the club swung open and closed hard on the jam. A few seconds later, there was a warm presence at my back, leaning on me gently.

Noah's musk washed over my senses and I closed my eyes, breathing it in. My heart jumped in my chest, and the electric sensation shot down my spine and between my legs. I could feel my p.u.s.s.y getting wet already as he pressed his handsome face next to mine, leaning over my shoulder.

His beard tickled the sensitive skin at my neck and I shivered.

With hot breath, he said, "I'm glad to see you sitting here."

It wasn't the line I expected, but nonetheless, the words brought with them a severe happiness that washed over my brain like a tidal wave. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pressed his hips against my back. His hardening d.i.c.k pulsed against the top of my a.s.s.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming," I teased.

Noah grunted softly under his breath and pulled me closer, until my back pressed hard against his muscled chest. I could feel his heart beating against my ribs. "I'm not, but we could change that very quickly."

f.u.c.k, he was dirty. I loved the way he talked to me. My c.l.i.t pulsed in my jeans, aching to feel the strength of his dexterous hands. I bit my lip. "I'm all for that."

Kevin came back over with the two shots and put them in front of me. Noah barely seemed to notice the man's presence. He kept his face pressed against the side of mine, breathing against me, one hand laying on my flat tummy dangerously close to my p.u.s.s.y. It took all my composure to turn away from him enough to take one of the shots. He watched me take it, and then took the second one himself.

Noah unwrapped himself from around my body and took the stool next to me. Kevin set us both up with another round and then, as if through some unspoken communication, left us alone after exchanging a greeting with Noah. When I saw the heaviness in Noah's eyes, I knew why. Despite the welcome warmth of his greeting, there was a storm raging inside him.

Noah took the next shot and drank half his beer before he looked back at me again. The quiet, sad tone of the indie music playing tonight only made him seem more melancholy.

Obviously, it didn't take an investigative journalist to know that he was probably rotting from hearing about Duke's bulls.h.i.t interview. All the chatter online, both in the journalist circles and in the general public, agreed that what Duke was doing was cold as ice. Of course, there was no agreement on whether he was a giant a.s.shole for doing it. Some defended his ruthless, capitalistic business sense, and others wanted to see him burned at the stake for betraying his artistic brothers. It was that kind of divisiveness that kept people glued to the story.

But what they didn't see-and what I, until that moment, hadn't really considered-was how that same divisiveness cut Noah to his core. To have someone betray you like that is horrible enough; to have a chorus of people not just forgiving, but cheering it on? That was a whole different h.e.l.l. Just one look at Noah made that clear.

I hoped inside that Noah had stayed away from the chatter. It would only make him feel worse. Even still, part of keeping up this cover meant I had to seem convincing, and there was just no realistic way a girl sleeping with Noah Hardy was going to not ask him something about what was happening. I had to bring it up; my job depended on it.

"Hey," I said softly. I waited until he looked at me. "Look, I know this..." It was not hard to act uncomfortable at that moment. "I saw the thing with Duke."

Noah's expression darkened, but he said nothing.

Quickly, I continued. "I just wanted to say-if you want to talk about it, I'm a good listener. But I get it if you don't want to."

Noah watched me, blinking slowly, thinking. I held his gaze for a second, but soon it just became too intense. There was so much raging behind his eyes. I turned back to my beer and hoped I hadn't struck a nerve with him.

His voice came quiet. "Thanks."

I nodded, turning to look at him just for a flash of a second as I did.

He said, "I really don't want to even think about it."

"I understand that," I said. "You don't have to."