“Feel better now?” asked Rosie, giving me a wink. “Your man is still a swinging single. Pissed at you. Still single, though.”
“Oh.”
Brows high, Lydia nodded. “He really hasn’t gotten over you leaving without saying goodbye.”
“Okay.” Bummer. Not a surprise, but still. I took a sip of the scotch. “It’s been over two months. I was sort of hoping—”
“No,” said Rosie.
“Nuh,” added Lydia. “Alex, with all due love and affection: that was not your best move.”
Rather dramatically, I sagged to one side. “I know, I just…”
Both women watched me, waiting for some amazing, all-revealing explanation. Sadly, I didn’t actually have anything resembling same. I’d needed to run at the time. Everything had been too much, too painful, too gah. Not a great word, but sadly, it fit.
Rosie gave up waiting first. “Okay, well. I hope you brought your ass-kissing lips with you.”
I nodded. “It’s a stay-on lip gloss. Chanel. Val bought it for me.”
“Great shade.”
“Thanks.” I offered a glum smile. “Exactly how angry is he? Say, on a scale of one to ten, where one is rock-and-roll wrestling where it’s mostly just posturing and finger pointing, to ten, where Godzilla is trashing Tokyo?”
The girls pondered for all of about a minute.
“Eleven?” asked Lydia.
“Sounds about right,” said Rosie. “You hurt his delicate man feelings. Given Star took off only leaving a note a few years earlier, it wasn’t pretty.”
“Shit.” My shoulders sagged. Maybe I should just hide and drink for a while. Delay the unhappy reunion. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“Best of luck, my friend.” Lydia clinked her champagne flute against my glass. “And remember, when in doubt, get the girls out.”
I cocked my head. “What?”
“Tits,” whispered Rosie.
“Ah.” I checked out the small amount I had on offer. “I’m not sure that’ll work in my case.”
“Apparently size doesn’t matter,” said Lydia, who had enough going on for two women with some to spare. “If they’re into breasts, then all are great.”
Maybe. “I think Joe’s more of an ass man, actually.”
Lydia sighed dreamily. Dreamily or drunkenly. Tricky to tell which. “Nothing says I love you like anal.”
I downed some more scotch. It was worth a thought.
“Okay.” With one hand on top of the other, Rosie made the T for time-out symbol. “There are small innocent babies here somewhere. Let’s keep butt sex out of this, please.”
“Sorry,” said Lydia, chastised.
All of a sudden, from the stage situated in the corner of the room, Vaughan started playing the “Wedding March.” Amid much whistling, clapping, and cheering, people moved to either side of the room, leaving an aisle. Andre, in a sharp blue suit, stood beside Nell, resplendent in a slinky simple ivory gown. The woman was beaming, her whole face lit up with love. Up front stood an Elvis impersonator, strangely enough. And Patrick, in black jeans and a black button-down shirt.
“Mal insisted they get married by the same Elvis who married Anne and him in Vegas,” whispered Lydia. “He said the dude knows how to make vows stick.”
“Elvis hoodoo?”
She shrugged. “Guess so.”
I frowned. “Oh, have I gone mad or is half of Stage Dive here?”
“No, all of Stage Dive is here,” said Lydia.
“They’re buddies with Vaughn. His old band toured with them.”
Nell and Patrick deserved to be happy. I had another mouthful of scotch, smiling at all the love in the air. Peace, happiness, stuff like that. Contrary to those emotions was the big strong hand gripping my arm, drawing me back through the crowd.
Crap. I’d been found.
Sooner rather than later might have been quite acceptable under some circumstances. Just not this one. Thunderclouds were friendlier than the look on Joe’s face. Tornados, tsunamis, all sorts of natural disasters. The bearded one was indeed pissed. Though it should be noted he looked downright delectable in his black suit and tie.
Without a word, he marched me away from the wedding taking place. Down a corridor into another wing, far, far away from anyone else. And all the while, his grip around my upper arm remained not painfully tight, but definitely iron strong. As awesome as my new YSL heels were, they’d not been meant for jogging.
“Slow down,” I hissed. “Joe.”
He ignored me, looking this way and that into the rooms as we passed. An office, a media room, a bathroom, and a room with nothing but a drum kit set up in it.
“Goddamn it,” I said, nearly tripping over my two feet. “Let go of me. Stop!”
Finally, we reached a room he was apparently happy with. A bedroom. Having dragged me inside, he slammed the door shut before turning to face me. This happened at about the same time when I’d had more than enough. As fury blazed in his eyes, the palm of my hand smacked into his cheekbone. I honestly don’t know who was more startled by the crack of sound, him or me. Either way, talk about a reaction.
That Zeny kid knew her stuff.
Hand stinging and breathing hard, I just stared. “If I say stop, you stop. You do not keep dragging me around like some sack of shit answerable to your highness. Is that clear?”
“My highness?”
I just shrugged. “You get what I mean.”
He dragged the back of a hand across his mouth, eyes all ragey. The red blossoming on his cheek was quite the beauty. “What are you doing here?”
“Apologize for not listening to me.”
“You’re right, I should have stopped. I was angry, but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.” His nostrils flared. “Now, what are you doing here?”
“Well, I was watching Nell and Pat get remarried. But apparently you decided we needed to have a chat and it couldn’t wait.”
“They invited you?”
“No, Joe. I just showed up because I thought it’d be funny to fuck with you,” I said, thoroughly riled up by now. “Of course they invited me.”
The man about-faced and started pacing. “They shouldn’t have done that.”
“Oh my God, are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“You don’t own these people,” I said. “Yes, they’re your friends, but you don’t make their decisions for them.”
“Like a little loyalty wouldn’t be too much to ask for. Though I guess you’re the wrong person to be understanding that concept.”
My mouth formed a perfect O.
“You left without saying a fucking word.” He pointed at me in particularly aggressive fashion. Douchebag. “After everything we’d been through.”
“You’d told me to go. Time and again, you told me in no uncertain terms,” I said, not backing down. Not this time. “So when the time was right, I left.”
“You said you’d have my back.”
“And then your dad took over working with you. You didn’t need me there anymore.”
He huffed out a breath, hands on hips. “You couldn’t even say goodbye?”
“You couldn’t even tell Star we’d been involved with each other?”