Dred huffed. “Me either. Music was and is my escape. There isn’t anything else I want to do. But I hate the fact my life ends up on magazine covers.”
She could feel his frustration. “It’s a bit surreal, even thinking about it, Dred. I don’t love the idea of being anybody’s front-page news, but I can deal with it.”
She heard Dred exhale slowly.
“I’m sorry it happened, Pix. There should have been no one around us who weren’t our friends and family. I don’t know who took that shot.”
“You don’t think it was Viggo, do you?’ Pixie shuddered at the way he’d treated her.
“I have no idea, but I’m going to get our manager to call the head of security at the arena to see if we can figure out who sold us out. Perhaps there is video footage or something. I’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”
“I believe you. And if we’re apologizing, I think I owe you one.” It was only fair.
“Yeah? Why’s that, gorgeous?” His tone was lighter. Brighter than the first half of their conversation.
“I’ve been avoiding you.” She winced at her own words.
“I know. You want to tell me why?”
Gah. No. She didn’t really. “You scare me a little,” she whispered. Pixie stood up and started to pace the sidewalk. Inside the studio, she could see Eric setting up his own station. Damn. That was her job. She heard Dred moving around on the other end of the line.
“Well, that certainly wasn’t the effect I was going for,” he said. “Want to tell me why?”
Cujo and Drea walked past her, Cujo’s arm slung lazily over Drea’s shoulder. Drea had reached up to grab his hand. They smiled as they went by. It made her heart sing to see the two of them together, and for a moment she allowed herself to pretend it was her and Dred.
She flashed five fingers at Cujo to let him know she’d be in soon. Cujo smiled before giving Drea a lingering kiss good-bye. Drea walked in the direction of José’s, the café she managed, and Cujo watched her go until she turned the corner.
They had such a passionate relationship. Mentos and Coke was how Cujo once described it, but it was so much more than that. Was it wrong that in spite of everything that had happened to her, she wanted to experience a piece of that soul-consuming love for herself?
“Because I don’t know what you want from me.” It was the truth. And not knowing was driving her crazy. “I’m not good with relationships. Casual sex doesn’t really work for me.” “Disastrous” might be a better word.
Perhaps the fact he was so far away would give them a chance to get to know each other better at a much slower pace.
“You’re a snowflake,” said Dred.
“A what?”
Dred laughed a little. “A snowflake. I don’t know what you and I have, Pix. I can’t even figure it out myself, but as I sat down to call you, I watched these snowflakes come in through the window. And they were so white and so fucking pure, the idea of touching one of them and making it melt was perfect, and yet the idea of spoiling it forever was not.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” Pixie whispered.
“I want to make you melt for me so bad it hurts,” Dred said gruffly. “But I want to leave you as perfect as you are. I can’t help but think I’ll be bad for you, Pix.”
His words were heartfelt, and she knew it was up to her to decide to take the next step. “I pick melting,” she said quietly, even though the unspoken meaning scared her witless.
“Then come to me,” he soothed. “I need to see you. And while I really want to feel your skin against mine, if you need time for that, I can deal.”
The idea of Dred naked caused a fire to burn through her, setting her ablaze. “I’m scheduled to close on Saturday, but I can be on the first flight Sunday morning.”
“I’ll book you a ticket when I get off the phone.”
“No,” she replied. “I don’t need you to buy it for me.”
“I know you don’t, but I want to. Think of it as the rock star equivalent of chocolates.”
“Fine, but so you know, this isn’t how it’s always going to go.” There was no need to spend his money on her when she had funds of her own.
“I hear you, Snowflake. See you Sunday.”
Snowflake. She liked it. “Good-bye, Dred.”
Pixie disconnected and smiled. The tightening in her stomach was a mix of excitement and nerves. Understandable in the circumstances.
Her goofy smile in place, she turned to go back into the shop when a motion caught the corner of her eye. She stopped and watched as a man shifted on the other side of the street. Head down, he turned and walked toward the corner, his back to her. For one second her heart stopped, plummeted, before beating faster. What if it was Arnie? Pixie shook her head. He had a few pounds on Arnie, and less hair. And while the clothes were the same, the slight limp wasn’t. It had been years since she’d seen him outside of her dreams. The man turned to face her just as a delivery truck hurtled down the street, blocking her view.
Yet once the van had passed and the road empty again, the man was no longer there.