Amplifier dark tide 2, p.5
Amplifier (Dark Tide #2), page 5
“Hey,” Rey scathes when his gaze catches mine. “Would you look at that? We startled the rabbit out of its hole.”
Toby spins at the waist, eyes hard while he scouts for what his brother talks about. Our gaze connects, and his lips flatten into a line. “Fuck up, Rey.”
I scan the stage area and fail to find Kris anywhere. Rey tracks my movements, much like a predator would, as I walk to where his guitar now lays flat on a case, side-of-stage. I reach out to pick the instrument up and set it back in its cradle, yet his growled words stop me dead in my tracks.
“Leave it.”
Fuck. What do I do now?
“Lay off.” Toby cuts a path across the stage. “She’s doing her job.”
“Seems pointless if you ask me.” I cower under the heat of Rey’s stare. “Guitar still works the same if its flat on the fucking stage or in its goddamn holder.”
Probably safest if I make myself scarce.
“Where are you going?” he gripes.
I come to a stop mid-stage and first glance to Rey, before silently seeking help from Toby.
He nods discreetly at the pleading look I give him and turns to his brother. “Take a walk.”
“No.”
“I said, take a walk, Rey. You’re in no mood to fucking perform.”
He stands, brow hard as the singer steps up to his larger, taller sibling. “Make me.”
“Fuck’s sake, you two.” Emery drags his ass off the stage while I find safety in my corner with Kris’s guitars. “Give it a rest for a goddamn night, would you?”
“What did you say?” Rey redirects focus to Emery.
Emery’s tech, Jimmy, enters the fray from the far side of the stage. He hesitates, cable in hand when it dawns on him what he walked in on.
Jesus—it’s like watching an animal discover they’ve wandered into the hunter’s crosshairs.
Think fast, Henley. I jerk the strap off Kris’s black guitar and clear my throat, heart pounding in my chest.
“Do any of you guys know where I can find Kris?”
Four heads turn my way. Emery looks as though he’s afraid for my life. Seeing the rage on Rey’s face, I am a little too.
“Do I look like his fuckin—”
“You need help with that?” Toby cuts Rey short with a hand to his brother’s chest.
“Yeah.” The tremor in that single word gives away the sheer terror I feel in this moment. “I haven’t quite mastered the knack yet.” I give an awkward little laugh in a desperate attempt to break the ice.
I’d heard about Rey’s temper, been warned he’s not always level. Shit—I saw his wrath in action before the dinner break. But if I thought witnessing it first-hand was shocking enough… Hell, it has nothing on having the intensity of that anger directed at me.
“This one’s a tricky bitch,” Toby offers as he crosses to where I stand shaking with the damn instrument throttled in my hold. “Pass her over.”
Clearly, Rey isn’t finished. “What the fuck are you here for if you can’t do the simplest job? Who hires these idiots?”
Toby snatches the guitar from my grasp and then spins back to his brother. “You want to show us how it’s done then?” He holds the instrument out for Rey.
His pissed off gaze flicks between the two of us. Emery calmly resumes drinking while Jimmy sneaks back into the shadows. “Whatever. You know I could.”
“Show us,” Toby challenges, taking a step toward him. Ground—swallow me now. “You know how much of a bitch Mephistopheles can be.”
Mephi-what? No wonder Jericho said it was easier to call it “the black one.”
“Fine.” Rey marches to where Toby stands and then rips the guitar from his hold. The strap whips against his leg in his haste, clearly infuriating him further.
I take a step back, arms banded across myself while I scour the stage for all viable exits should I need them.
Rey hitches the strap and then thrusts the guitar at Toby. It falls off. “Fuck.” He repeats the movement only this time the strap won’t catch. His knuckles turn white with the grip he has on the leather, his neck corded with his rage.
“Hand it back,” Toby says softly. “I’ll do it.”
Rey’s eyes are positively possessed when he lifts his head. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” His tone is low and level, yet there’s no mistaking the menace.
I swallow hard, unable to rip my gaze from the chaos unfolding before me. I’m so going to lose my job after this.
“It was stupid of me to push you,” Toby appeases, reaching for the gear. “Give Kris’s guitar back.”
“I can do it,” Rey protests, twisting on the spot to body-block Toby. “Fuck!” He flicks the strap away, yet the secured end brings the eyelet whipping back against him.
My breath catches in my throat, the whole wreck happening as though in slow motion when Rey lifts the instrument over his head.
“Hey!” Kris sprints toward him from the opposite side of the stage.
Toby lunges for the base of the guitar as Rey begins to swing it down.
A squeak escapes me, a groan coming from Emery as Kris slides in like a baseball player between the guitar—whatever the fuck Toby called it—and the stage.
The instrument collects him in the shoulder, yet he saves his prized possession from imminent destruction.
“You want to throw a goddamn wobbly, then destroy your own gear, you fucking asshole.” Kris cradles the guitar to his chest, fingers tangled in the strings from the rushed hold he took as he gets to his feet.
“You should buy a new fucking strap, you douche,” Rey hollers. “Save us a hell of a lot of time, not to mention confusing the idiotic fucking help.”
My heart matches his quickened steps as he stomps offstage. Oh God. Nope. Not cool with this.
“The whole thing was my fault,” Toby states, hands raised. “I let him have it.”
“Why did anyone have it?” Kris asks. His chest rapidly rises as he appears to catch his breath. “If he’d so much as put a fucking dent in this—”
“I know.” Toby turns slightly to catch my eye. “You okay?”
Words fail me. I stand mute while Kris seemingly takes notice of me for the first time.
I should have prevented that. I shouldn’t have got myself involved in the band’s issues. This is totally all because of me and my goddamn misplaced thought that I could help.
I meet Kris’s eye, the shame burning a path up my throat and into my cheeks. I just…. I can’t….
I bail.
Like the over-emotional wreck I am—thanks, Dad—I turn tail and flee to the relative safety of the backstage area.
This was a mistake. This was such a mistake.
I should have stuck to admiring these guys from afar because the fantasy was so much better than the reality.
EIGHT
Kris
“The Devil Inside” – Like A Storm
My chest heaves with each deep breath I take as I set Mephistopheles in his cradle. Fuck that was close. I can’t lose this guitar, and like hell, I’ll ever replace the strap.
I’d cut my goddamn fingers off before I let that piece of her go.
“Goddamn asshole,” Emery mutters as he walks by to set his near-empty bottle down. “Somebody has to do something to get that fucker in line.”
“Like what?” I murmur, checking the edges of the guitar with my fingertips. No notches.
“Fucked if I know,” Em says with a laugh. “Just something.” He glances to where Toby stalked off to find Rey. “How’s your shoulder anyway?”
I stretch the neck of my sweatshirt across to check the injury out.
Em sucks a sharp breath between his teeth. “That looks nasty, man.”
The flesh across my collarbone is red and sensitive to the touch. Fucker got me right on the goddamn bone with the sharp edge. “It’ll be fine.”
“Hey,” he says with lifted eyebrows. “We’ve got time while Toby gets princess back on stage. Go see if they have ice out back.”
“I’m sure the swelling will go down.” I gingerly set my hoodie back in place.
“Or,” he says with loaded sarcasm, “your collarbone will swell up, and you’ll be lumping around the stage like Quasimodo tonight.”
He has a point—the injury is right where my strap sits. “Fine. I’ll go have a look.”
“Hunt Jericho down. That militarian bastard is sure to have an entire surgical kit somewhere.”
I nod while I head for the stairs. Palm to my shoulder to ease the throbbing, I make my way down the steps to the makeshift lounge and head for the bar fridge set up at the far end. Hopefully, there’s an ice pack stashed in there somewhere. Be stupid not have one at a performance event like this.
I tug the door open and stoop to look inside. The hiccupped sniffle to my right seizes my lungs. Oh, yeah. Henley.
“You all right?”
She turns away, shying from me as I close the fridge again.
“Henley.” My collarbone throbs like a motherfucker, but ignoring her seems wrong. “I asked if you’re okay.” Her earlier sunny disposition has completely disappeared.
After taking the time to read her bullshit application properly, I can’t say I care.
“I’m sorry.” Her words falter. She thrusts the heel of her hands under her eyes; head bowed, and back toward me. “I shouldn’t have asked them for help, but I didn’t know where you were.”
“Next time, just leave it for me.” I edge carefully around her, ducking my head to try and see her face.
My hair slides into my eyes, pissing me off when I miss the glimpse of her as she stands.
“I’ll go find Jericho and let him know I’ll leave as soon as he finds a replacement.” Her voice has taken on a scarily level tone. “I really wanted this to work out.” She’s barely audible as she whispers, “Fuck.”
I might not grasp the female gender all too well, but I know when a chick says everything is fine, it’s not. It’s like, rule number one of understanding women, or something.
“Hey.” She stiffens when I catch her arm. “What exactly happened up there?” I wince when my shoulder twinges.
Henley catches my reaction. “How bad did he hurt you?” The girl looks as though she’ll pass out; she’s gone so pale. “I fucked up the whole show, didn’t I?”
“Stop being so dramatic. It’s nothing. Honestly.” I peel the shoulder of my sweatshirt away to check how the inflammation looks.
Henley gasps. “Kris,” she scolds. “It’s not okay. Fucking hell.”
“My shoulder will be fine,” I press. “What I need right now is for you to tell me why the fuck Rey almost destroyed my gear.” Because unless she has some reasonable explanation for this, I’ll be back up there to throttle the asshole once we’re done.
“I’ll make you a deal.” She straightens her spine, chin raised. “I get ice for your shoulder, and then I’ll tell you.”
“Fine,” I grumble.
I can’t argue with her. I need to do something to lessen the injury. Otherwise, the swelling is bound to fuck with my performance later.
She turns tail and hotfoots toward the front-of-house as I flop onto the nearest seat.
The tour is fucked. Plain and simple.
We started epically, but it’s as though we used all our good mojo up in one hit. From the second Rick forgot to book our flights, the whole thing took a nosedive. Fuck—drama with Rey aside, the rest of us have lost cohesion too.
Emery sticks to himself, seeking refuge in his bitch, Deanna. And Toby… Shit. He hides out every night after the show to recharge for the next round with Rey.
I’ve lost my family. The unit has broken down, and watching Rey and Toby fight is like waiting for your parents to divorce; the lack of trust and respect is clear. We’re only waiting for them to realize they can’t salvage what they’ve destroyed.
I’m not ready to move on from this. Dark Tide isn’t just my life. It’s my home.
It’s me.
I slump into the hard plastic chair and jerk my hood over my head. If I were a superstitious person, I’d believe this fucking tour was cursed. Every time I think things couldn’t get any worse, I’m reminded just how wrong I can be.
“You wouldn’t believe how much stuff security have out there,” Henley says with a laugh as she drops off the stairs. “It’s like they prepare for war.”
“Working for us, they need to be.”
She twitches a small smile. “Are you ready for this?” Water droplets run down the back of her hand as she lifts the thawing ice.
“Sure.” I stick my hand out to take the pack from her, yet she jerks her head to indicate I should stay seated.
I silently do as I’m told and relax into the seat once more. Henley’s gaze fixes to mine as she takes the last few steps to reach me, and then drops to her knees beside the armchair.
“I’m sorry he did this. I was just trying to help.” She sets the ice gently on my collarbone, watching her hand as she does. “Toby and Rey were arguing because of me, and I just wanted to stop them.”
“Why?”
She glances at me before returning her focus to the ice. “You’re a band. You’re supposed to work together. I didn’t like seeing the divide and knowing I was to blame.”
“Not why did you try and stop them,” I explain. “I meant why were they arguing over you?”
“I think Rey’s just having a bad day, right?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She huffs a breath, fidgeting with the ice unnecessarily. I set my hand over hers and still it.
“I walked onstage at the wrong time,” she confesses, eyes down. “You could have cut the tension with a knife, and given Emery and Toby were ignoring Rey, I guess I was an easy target for his frustration.”
“He was an asshole to you?” Fucking diva knows no limits.
“I didn’t know how to handle him.” She flexes her hand beneath mine.
I realize how hard I hold it and pull away. “You’re not the only one.” My head hits the back of the seat as I let out a loaded sigh. “He’s got… issues that mean he can’t get a grip on his frustration.”
“Why is he so pissed off?” Henley relaxes onto her heels, twisting the ice pack to keep the contact cold. “The tour has been a hit so far.”
“At face value.” I glance her way, rolling my head on the seat.
My hair slides into my face. She gently brushes the strands aside, then frowns when I jerk away from her touch.
“Sorry.”
“Just don’t.” I close my eyes and focus on the chill of the ice pack.
“I really am sorry—”
“I said, stop.” She’s so nice, so genuine. I could have fallen for this so easily.
“Would you like me to leave?”
I pin her with a hard stare and swallow hard. “I want you to tell me why you’re really here; on this tour.”
“Because this is what I want to do.” Her brow twitches into a frown, her hand as unsettled while she seemingly tries to pull away yet also keep the ice in place.
“Is that all?”
Henley sucks in a deep breath before answering on an exhale. “Yes.”
I shake my head, knocking her hand out of the way to take charge of the ice.
“What? What have I done?”
“It’s more what you will do.” I’ve got enough bullshit to contend with without worrying about how her groupie ass will derail this tour. “I can’t believe you’re playing innocent.” I should have known the minute she rocked up looking like one of the fucking paying customers.
Henley rises to her feet. Her throat bobs as she seemingly composes herself. “Less than a day with you and I already understand one thing.”
“Enlighten me,” I snide.
“You’re so much better when you don’t talk.”
Like she’d fucking know.
NINE
Henley
“Torn in Two” – Breaking Benjamin
“Is that so?”
I should walk away, give us both time to cool off for the sake of our working relationship. But my stubborn pride wants to know why Kris behaves like such a jerk. I’ve done nothing but be helpful and eager to learn, aside from the incident just now, so what damn reason does he have to despise me like this?
“If you’re going to treat me like shit,” I say, “then at least tell me why.”
“Because you’re a liar,” he states. “I don’t appreciate being forced to work with people I don’t trust.”
I will not cry. I will not cry.
With one statement, he wipes the rug from underneath me. Throat thick with shame, I avert my gaze as he stands and casually stretches out. He lifts the ice pack over his head before he drops his arms to his side.
“Fuck you.” My words may have been whispered, but the venom in them is clearly received when the asshole jerks his head in my periphery.
“Excuse me?”
I match his stance. “Nobody is forcing you to do a damn thing. If you feel you’re capable of performing without a tech at your side, then I’ll gladly dedicate my full attention to Rey.”
He snorts; the corner of his lip curls up in a callous sneer. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“Just spit it out, Kris.” I used to think his silence was alluring—now I crave it for other reasons. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”
“How long have you been doing this, Henley? Truthfully?”
“What the hell does it matter?” If I’m good at my job, I’m good at it. Period.
He punches his arms across his chest, glaring out at me from inside his hood. Wisps of black hair curl around the left side of his face. “I checked your application. Lords of London?”
Shit. “What about them?”
“You toured with them two years ago, you said.” His smug grin tells me he knows the truth.
“I did.” And yet I can’t just suck it up and admit I lied.
He scoffs, chest pushed out. “I toured with them last year, and you know what I learned about them?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” My legs give out. I submit and flop to the seat again; shoulders curled inward.
