“Rafe’s going to care.” Miki rested his head on Damien’s shoulder, contemplating where they were going to go. “Because you think he wants back up there. Like you do.”
“Shit, you saw his face when we started talking about this shit at the Amp. He was itching harder than a crack fiend. He’s that addicted to the stage, then I’ve got to ask if he’s that hooked onto the shit he put into his veins. Can’t have two masters and one puppet. One’s got to give.” Damien sighed, hooking his arm around Miki’s shoulders. “Then Quinn goes and lays things out for us, and now I’m asking myself, suppose he gives in to the one I’m chasing… our own fucking dragon, and I’m the one who stumbles. What then?”
“Your band. You stumble and—”
“And I bring him down with me.” Damien sighed. “So for all the crap I’m spouting about him falling off the wagon and taking us down, I could be doing the exact same damned thing to him. And then there’d be no going back for him. Not from that.”
“Risk he’s going to have to take,” Miki pointed out. “And I think you’re still pissed off about Sionn bringing it up. Because he got in your face. Because you were an asshole and spit in his. Quinn’s right about that. He did for Rafe what you’d do for me. Pisses you off, but it’s true.”
“Sionn fucked up. It’s not his business what we do in the band.” He yelped when Miki’s fingers found and pinched his nipple. “Shit, what?”
“You ever think maybe he didn’t just bring it up for Rafe’s sake but because he gives a shit about you?” Something snapped into place, and Miki grinned to himself, seeing a pattern connecting Rafe and Damien. “You want up on stage so fucking badly you can taste it. Sionn knows that, and who is the one bassist he knows? The one guy who could take what we give him on stage and throw it back to us? Rafe Andrade. Sionn isn’t just trying to help Rafe. He’s trying to get you back to where you want to be—where you need to be. And you’re just too much of a stubborn asshole to see it.”
“Think so?” Damien sighed, nudging the dog with his toe. “Fucking hell. He is. He was. Fucking shit.”
“Well, Sionn knows you almost as well as I do.”
Miki poked D in the ribs, making him wince.
“Go talk to Rafe about coming in. He’s good. We know he’s good, and we can use him.”
“Neither one of them replaces Johnny and Dave. You know that, right?”
“Any more than anyone could replace you, asswipe.” Miki sighed. “It’s a new thing. A new band. Remember? Back from the gutter. Or maybe never leaving it. So long as we play. Don’t forget that part, D. It doesn’t matter where we go so long as we’re there.”
“Can I be a little bit of a dick? You know, just on principle.” Damien chuckled at Miki’s sneer. “Don’t want him to know we want him. We’re going to have to make him work for it.”
“Dude, he came here on a Sunday and braved the whole gauntlet of horror. Probably figuring out when’s the best time to talk to you. Before the she-demon descends with her flying monkeys, or after they’ve all been fed so everyone’s in a food coma and she’s rattling about the turrets looking for new victims.”
“Sinjun, not everyone’s scared to shit of Brigid. He grew up here. With them.” He grabbed Miki’s cup and handed it to him. “She loves him like a son. Just like she loves you.”
“Yeah, I love her too,” Miki said through a mouthful of coffee. “I’m just not going to tell her. ’Cause I’m thinking that’s how she levels up, and I don’t fucking want to know what bonus power she’d get then.”
Chapter 9
Warehouse kitchen
Kane: Your coffee’s kind of sweet today, Mick. Too much sugar?
Miki: I didn’t put any sugar in it. I just poured it into the cup.
K: Must be sweet because I kissed you before I took a sip.
M: Shit like that makes me throw up in my mouth, dude. Really.
K: Isn’t there a single romantic bone in your body?
M: Only when you put it in me.
“WOW, SO they shot you down?” Sionn handed Rafe an ice-cold beer, then settled into pillows strewn about the Morgans’ covered widow’s walk. “Just like that?”
“Yeah, didn’t even entertain the idea.” Shoving his hair away from his face, Rafe sighed. “Sure, kind of out of left field, but it had some merit. Really, is there anything that wrong with me? How much more fucking penance am I supposed to do before people don’t think I’m shit?”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t think you’re shite there, Andrade,” his friend countered. “Probably just a bad time for it.”
“Dude, Donal couldn’t say no fast enough.” Rafe saluted Sionn with his bottle. “I was just offering Quinn a place to stay, not knock him up and leave him at a train station with a one-way ticket to a nunnery. It got even uglier after that.”