With a snicker, he challenged, “Yeah, and you totally didn’t check out Hart’s ass when he walked away just a minute ago.”
I stuttered a second before spitting out, “Because I’m gay.”
“Or female.”
“Listen here, asshole.” I pointed at him, but he grabbed my finger and twisted my wrist to examine my palm.
“Yep,” he said more to himself. “Total chick hand.”
I yanked away from him. “Hey! Don’t—”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell him.”
That caught me by surprise. I straightened and blinked. “Huh?”
“This is how I see it. I owe that fucker one. He knew the one girl I was supposed to stay away from was sneaking into my room to fuck my brains out without my knowing it was her, and he said nothing. So I don’t feel inclined at all to let him in on the fact that the girl of his dreams is actually the new drummer in his band, posing to be a gay-ass dude, which I’m still confused about. Why again are you doing that?”
“The...wait, back up. Why do you keep saying shit like the girl of his dreams? And what the ever loving hell are you talking about with some...song?”
“Holy shit.” He stared at me as if I was insane. “Do you seriously not know?”
I frowned, beyond irritated. “If I knew, do you think I would be asking what they hell you’re talking about right now?”
“Jesus, you’re sassy. Haven’t you heard the song he wrote for you?”
“No.” I shook my head stupidly. “Will you please start making some damn sense before you give me a fucking headache? What song?”
Ten grinned suddenly. “Oh, I like you. You’ll be good for him.”
“Ten,” I growled, fed up with this conversation because actually it was already giving me a headache.
With a sigh, he explained. “He wrote a song about you, you know, about how he saw you singing up there on the karaoke with Jodi. Jesus, you’re in the band now, why don’t you know about this song?”
“Oh, I don’t know; maybe because you’re talking utter bullshit. No song like that exists. Trust me, I’m familiar with all of Non-Castrato’s songs.”
“No. I really don’t think you are. You should look into that.” I opened my mouth to disagree some more but he straightened and glanced behind me. “Incoming.”
“What?” I glanced back and nearly peed my pants when I found Asher almost upon us, lugging a case of alcohol. He heaved the box onto the counter and extracted two bottles before telling Ten to do something with the rest. Then he popped the caps to both and handed me one.
“To our best performance yet,” he toasted.
Warmth flooded me, making me forget everything Ten and I had just discussed. Had tonight really been the band’s best performance? Oh God, I loved hearing that.
I tapped the neck of my bottle against his and took a tentative sip, only to lift my eyebrows in surprise. “Holy shit. This isn’t half bad.”
Asher laughed. “I know. I’ve become addicted to them.”
He slid onto an empty stool and motioned to the free seat beside him. I glanced around for Jodi, only to spot her sitting at a table with Galloway...on his lap as he stuck his tongue down her throat. Eww. I wasn’t sure where Holden had disappeared to, or if he was even still in the building. Since I didn’t know anyone else and I couldn’t think up a good reason to refuse Asher’s invitation, I sat on the stool next to him, even though it kind of felt like I was deceiving him to play all buddy-buddy like this.
“So how long have you been playing?” he asked, drawing my attention back to him. I liked his hands—long, slender musician’s fingers—and how he always kept them busy, like the way he was idly spinning his bottle on the countertop in the puddle of its own sweat ring. It was as if he had this pent-up energy inside him and he had to use his fingers to expend it.
A shiver and hot trail of lust curled through me, imagining much more productive ways he could put his fingers to use.
God, I was awful. Concentrate, Remy. He asked you a question.
I shrugged. “For as long as I can remember. I grew up next door to Jodi’s parents, and they owned a music store, not like a place that sold records and CDs either, but an actual music store that has pianos and clarinets and flutes and guitars and such. They always played the coolest eighties music every time I went over there. My family played nothing outside mariachi music, so it was like a whole new exciting world to visit the Maleskys’ house.”
“And I assume that’s where you bought your first drum set.”
I winked. “Oh, you know it.”
As he grinned, I nodded my chin at him. “What about you?”