Trent opened the door. “I’m ready when you are,” he said.
Dred walked toward him, then turned back to her, the smile she found impossible to ignore back on his face. “So, we bonded a little more. You and me. Even held hands, right? When are you finally going to agree to go on a date with me?”
“When the Marlins win the World Series,” she answered. Though in truth, a part of her wanted to go on a date with him right now.
*
Dred sat back and let the drone of the tattoo gun and the bite of its needles release the pressure building inside his head. Nothing to focus on but the hum and vibration.
“Sorry we couldn’t use the private room, but believe me, it’s better for everyone’s ear drums this way. You look wrecked.” Trent didn’t look up as he spoke, he kept on shading. Dred hated the unoriginal skull he got when he’d been nineteen, but loved the design Trent had come up with to cover it up.
“Been a long few months.” His voiced cracked on the end. Bad sign.
“No time off during the tour?” Trent dipped his needles in black ink.
Dred preferred his tattoos in black and gray, although vibrant color looked sexy as hell on a woman. He glanced over at the desk where Pixie was laughing with a client.
“We tagged a couple of days here and there. Mostly on the road though, not at home. I miss my fucking bed something fierce. Managed to add a couple of days to this trip though. Hoping the warm weather will be good for the throat.”
“It’s cool here right now.” Trent moved Dred’s arm to where he wanted it.
“Cool? It’s hovering around three degrees back home.” Dred laughed, but it turned into a cough. Crap. Coughing was really bad.
“You talking that metric shit? What’s that in real numbers? Like, forty?”
“Yeah, something like that. And what are you? Oh, that’s right, seventy, maybe even eighty. You wouldn’t know cool if it walked up and bit you.”
“You know, if you’re sticking around, you could come in tomorrow and I’ll finish off that lower sleeve we’ve been working on,” Trent said, dipping the tattoo equipment into the ink.
“I’m up for it if you’re sure you can fit it in.”
“Of course. So what else has been happening?”
“We got some kind of leak. I told you before we all grew up in a group home, right?”
Trent nodded. “Yeah, I remembered that.”
“Well, someone leaked some info about Elliot and how he ended up in the home. They didn’t get it totally right, but revealed some real personal shit. We have no idea how the media got on to it.” Thank fuck they didn’t know it all. If they’d found out the truth, the band would have been in a whole world of hurt.
What hurt more was watching how the news had set Elliot back. The leaks were coming faster, their content cutting closer and closer to home. Each one felt like a personal attack that was getting harder to bounce back from. Fortunately Sam was all over that shit. Had retractions written within hours, but once the rumor was out there, there was no erasing it.
Dred started to cough again. “Sorry.”
“No worries, man. One sec. Pix?” Trent shouted over his shoulder.
“What’s up?” She walked toward them, her hips swinging in sexy black leggings. She rocked purple kicks on her feet that matched her hair.
“Dred needs one of your magic potions. Can you hook him up?”
Pixie felt Dred’s forehead. Such a motherly thing to do; it reminded him of Ellen. He used to push her away, but he secretly loved the fact she showed concern.
“You don’t have a fever. Okay. Gimme ten minutes. It needs to steep.”
He watched Pixie walk away, the view from the rear almost as compelling as the view from the front.
“Right, I need you to move yourself around like this.” Trent repositioned Dred’s arm on the rest. “And I think you should stop talking, seeing we’re coming to see your show later.”
Dred leaned back and closed his eyes. A couple of hours here at the studio, then a cab over to the venue. Sound check was a formality, thankfully. They were using their regular crew led by Stan, a concert veteran who worked hard to ensure a flawless set up. Even so, Dred never considered skipping it.
It felt like sixty seconds had passed when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“I have your tea.”
Pixie. He rubbed his eyes to shake the drowsy feeling.
He took the cup from her and sniffed it. “What’s in it?”
“Try it first, then I’ll tell you.”
Dred eyed Trent. “This is safe, right?”
Trent laughed and Pixie cuffed the back of his ear. “Just try it. There’s nothing illegal, mood altering, or sleep enhancing.”
Dred nervously took a sip. It felt like heaven going down his sore throat. “Oh my God.”
“I know, right?” Trent said. “It’s a special recipe Pixie makes for all of us when we’re ill. Works like a charm.”
Dred drank some more. “What’s in this?”