A Lush Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel (23 page)

“For being my friend,” I answer.

“I’ll always be your friend, short stack. Always.”

And I believe him. If only I didn’t want so much more than his everlasting friendship.

W
hen Tully
and I walk into the small neighborhood pub that her sister owns I’m not sure what to expect. I’ve met Savvy, and she’s great, but I’ve also met Tully’s brother and he’s an asshole, so I’m naturally wondering what I’m going to find when we get to her welcome home party.

The Dublin Devil looks like a pub that’s been taken straight out of Ireland and plunked down in a middle-class urban neighborhood in Portland. The front door is plate glass and there is a bank of storefront windows as well. Inside, a traditional woodtopped bar runs along one wall, while the rest of the room is taken up by small tables, some regular height, others tall with barstools for seating.

In the back corner is a sound system and I notice immediately that it’s a Lush song playing as we walk in. Savvy is standing like an indulgent mother looking over everything, a tall, lanky guy next to her slinging drinks.

The vibe of the place is laid back, family-friendly, and I can see that it fits Savvy and Tully perfectly. It’s the opposite of what I was raised in, and there’s a twinge of envy that shoots through me when I see that this is where Tully comes from. Even if her brothers are assholes, she’s lucky to have a home like this.

“She’s here! She’s here!” Savvy yells from behind the bar. She scoots under the gate that lifts up to allow the bartenders to exit, and runs toward us. I back up as she grabs Tully in a hug and the two of them shriek the way that chicks do. As they hop around doing their thing the guy from behind the bar reaches me and throws the bar towel over his shoulder before putting his hand out.

“Hi, I’m Kevin, Savvy’s husband.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Blaze, Tully’s…uh…friend.” I feel my face heat as I shake his hand, embarrassed at my inability to define whatever it is Tully and I are doing.

Kevin chuckles. “Yeah, I might have heard about you once or twice.” He winks and I shake my head.

“Thanks a lot for letting me hang out. Your place is great.”

He sighs. “Yeah, we love it, but it’s a damn lot of work.”

“Being a business-owner always is, isn’t it?”

“True. The advantage of my business is I get to drink while I run it.” He laughs. “What can I get for you?” He gestures to the bar and indicates I should follow him.

We walk over to the bar, Tully and Savvy chattering away as they follow us.

“All right, you cretins move so Tully and her friend can have a seat here at the bar,” Kevin tells a couple of guys. They both give me a chin tip and move aside. I take a spot and Tully hops on the stool next to me as Savvy and Kevin go back behind the bar.

Tully asks for an old fashioned and I get a Coke. As we sit, people start to wander over to say hi to Tully. I meet several of her former bandmates, the staff of the pub, and a couple of cousins who seem more interested in me than they are in Tully. But through it all, Savvy and Kevin are there, encouraging Tully, bragging about her achievements, smoothing over any awkwardness for me. Tully’s parents may have failed her, but Savvy and Kevin have done everything they can to make up for it. Tully is loved, and that makes my heart squeeze hard, because if anyone knows just how loveable she is, it’s me, the guy who’s rapidly falling in love with her even though it can’t last. Even though I’m pretty sure she’ll leave me far behind when she learns what I’m capable of.

About an hour into the party Tully’s completely relaxed. She, Savvy and one of their cousins are giggling over the latest gossip about people from their high school. Somehow Tully and I have ended up sharing a barstool, her wedged between my legs with her feet up on the railing below the bartop. I’ve got one hand around her waist to keep her in place, and with the other I’m drawing the Seahawks’s latest offensive strategy on a bar napkin while Kevin and I argue goodnaturdly about whether the Seahawks or the Broncos would win the next Super Bowl match up.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you, Kevin,” Tully cries, bouncing up and down on my lap and sending my dick into a frenzy that’s completely inappropriate in public.

“What?” Kevin answers in a high-pitched voice imitating her bouncing. She flips him off and he laughs.

“We might get to play the Super Bowl halftime show,” she announces. “But now that you made fun of me I won’t get you tickets.” She sticks her tongue out, and Kevin clutches his heart before making puppy dog eyes at her.

“Fine. I’ll take you.”

He grins.

My own heart clutches, but for an entirely different reason. I’ve never mentioned the Super Bowl competition to Tully. It’s a form of denial that allows me to sleep in her bed at night, and plot her failure during the day. I’m a fucking son of a bitch, and the Super Bowl contest is the symbol of just how much of one I am.

“So when will you find out?” Savvy asks.

“A few more weeks I think,” Tully answers. “It’s between us and some other band.”

Apparently Tully knows very few details about the whole thing. I don’t believe for a second that Joss Jamison doesn’t know who his competition is. He’s far too good a businessman for that. But he obviously hasn’t told Tully about it.

“Wow, I remember watching Lush play it a few years back. I’d have never guessed you’d be there with them the next time around,” Kevin says.

I tip my soda back and keep my mouth shut, looking for a way to change the subject before the guilt consumes me whole right here in the middle of Kevin and Savvy’s pub.

Then, as if Satan himself hears my plea, the door to the bar opens, bringing a rush of noise and chilled air with it. Everyone turns to see who it is and at the same time a slurred voice calls out, “Look! My little sister came home and brought a rock star with her!”

James, Keith, and Lou, Tully’s three older brothers blow into the bar like a pack of hyenas looking for a kill to scavenge.

“Aw fuck,” Kevin mutters.

I see Savvy’s hand shoot out to grasp Tully’s wrist. Tully’s gone stiff against me, her back rigid, and her hands curled into fists. I stroke her arm and whisper in her ear, “I got your back, baby. Don’t worry about a thing.”

I shift her forward and lift so I can slide out from under her. Before she can stop me I’m off the stool and walking toward James and company.

“Hey, man, you might not remember, but we met in L.A. when you came to Tully’s concert.” I put out my hand and look at all three men with one eyebrow raised.

James snorts, refusing to shake my hand. “Yeah, I remember. You interrupted my conversation with my sister.”

The other two guys look too intrigued by me to turn down my offer, so they both shake and introduce themselves.

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “It’s good of you to come to Tully’s welcome home party. Everyone’s having a great time.” The warning in my voice is clear, and I see brother two swallow as his gaze darts to James.

Brother three solves the problem by stepping around all of us and heading over to Tully. “Hey, sis, welcome home,” he says as he approaches.

I nod my approval then look to James to see what he’s going to do. He shrugs and saunters over to the bar. Brother two follows, giving me a weak smile as he passes.

I follow the thick-headed threesome and for a while it’s all good. Brothers two and three are actually entertained by Tully’s stories of life on the road and even deign to say that they think it’s cool she’s in a “real” band. James sits apart from everyone else and continues to drink, something he’d obviously done a lot of even before he arrived. I notice that Kevin waters down his drinks more and more each time he serves him and we’re both keeping an eye on that end of the bar.

Tully’s just finished telling the story about how a couple of the bands got together and had an “anything for a buck” party backstage complete with real dollar bills for all the attendees to spend on propositioning each other. The combination of a couple dozen rock stars, twice that many groupies, and enough booze and weed to supply a third world country had made for a night that will live on in the nightmares of managers and publicists up and down the West Coast for months.

“How many of ‘em did
you
fuck, sis?” James’s voice rings out from the end of the bar.

The entire room goes silent except for the Lush songs that keep playing over and over.

“James,” Kevin warns. “Remember you’re in my bar, and I don’t have to let you stay.”

I stand, the heat of rage coursing through me like a flood of fire. I hold my palm out to Kevin. “No man, let him talk.” Vaguely I hear Tully’s voice saying something like “let it be” but I’m past that, and I shake off her hand on my arm as I move to where James sits, smug grin on his flushed, puffy face.

I reach him and square up, placid smile firmly in place. “Say it again,” I command him softly. “I dare you.”

I hear one of the women behind us gasp, but I keep my eyes steady on James. He’s been tormenting her most of her life, and if I do nothing else worthwhile for this woman, I can at least put an end to a couple of decades of bullying from her so-called brother.

He stands, wobbling a bit as he does. In the back of my mind it registers that I’m sober, he’s not, and therefore most wouldn’t consider this a fair fight, but then I remember five foot two inch Tully, years younger than James, and I decide fair doesn’t factor in here.

“I said,” he slurs. “How many of ‘em did she fuck?”

My fist shoots out so fast I barely register that I’m punching him until I feel the smack of flesh followed by a crunching noise as his head whips to one side and his nose bursts in a spray of blood. There are gasps and shouts from the rest of the people, but it doesn’t even phase me as I grab him by the front of his shirt and back him up against the bar. He’s on his tiptoes, face dripping blood and eyes rolling around in his head.

“Let me make something really clear to you,” I snarl only inches from his face. “You ever talk to your sister that way again, and I will hunt you down, and make you so fucking sorry you’ll think this broken nose was a blessing in comparison.”

There’s stuff going on behind me, people talking, gasps of surprise, but I tune it all out. Nothing matters but making sure this fucking asshole never insults Tully again.

I give him a hard shake, and he struggles, trying to get enough space to shove me. He’s a decent-sized guy, but I’m bigger, and I’m a whole lot angrier.

“Tell me you understand what I’m saying.” I pull him up tighter, and he makes a gurgling sound deep in his throat.

I hear Tully’s voice, it’s soft and small, and all I can think is that I don’t ever want to hear her sound like that again, because Tully—my Tully—is all about brave and bold and beautifully brazen.

“Stop, Blaze. Please.”

Then Kevin’s hand is on my arm. “Let him go. He’s leaving now. Right James? Heading home for the night? I’ve already called a cab.”

I release him and slowly step back. James takes a big draw of air, coughing some as he wipes the back of his arm across his face, smearing blood everywhere.

He looks at me then with disgust and hatred. There’s fear mixed in, but he’s so drunk he doesn’t have the good sense to be as scared as he ought to be.

“Fuck you,” he rasps out. Then he pushes by me and tips his chin at tweedle dee and tweedle dum. “You comin’?”

Brothers two and three give Tully a little shrug and an embarrassed wave goodbye before throwing me a couple of dirty looks and following James out.

After the door closes behind them the entire room gives a sigh of relief. Kevin moves back behind the bar shouting about free drinks and a game of beer pong. He’s a good guy, I know he’s trying to distract them.

I lean my hands on the bar, arms stiff, and take several deep breaths. I haven’t been that mad in a very long time, and it doesn’t necessarily feel good. Although I have to say my fist connecting with James’s face felt pretty damn perfect.

“Come with me,” Savvy says quietly as she puts a hand on my arm. I rub my face trying to dissipate some of the adrenaline that’s shot through my system. It feels a little like a high, and I know I’m going to pay for this with some hard jonesing.

I nod and follow Savvy to the door that leads back to the kitchen. On my left is a set of narrow stairs. She points up and tells me, “Up there. And get your A-game on, you might need it.”

I sigh and trudge upstairs, my decision to beat the crap out of Tully’s brother seeming like less and less of a good idea with every tread I mount. When I reach the top I’m on a small landing with a door in front of me. It’s ajar and I knock lightly before entering.

The room is pure Tully, deep, rich colors, unusual pairings that somehow work perfectly. The furnishings are mostly antiques, dark woods and brocade upholstery. But there’s a cleanness to the whole place, it’s not cluttered like your grandmother’s house of antiques. The hardwood floors are bare except for an area rug right in front of the sofa, and the hangings on the walls are modern, splashes of color, concert posters, some architectural photographs. But the reason I know instantly that it’s Tully’s place, her refuge if you will, is the perfectly polished baby grand that sits in the corner under the windows that look out over the street at the front of the building.

“Do you feel better?” she asks quietly from where she stands next to the piano.

I take a couple of steps into the space, not sure if she’s going to throw my ass out or not.

“I’m sorry, short stack. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you—”

She turns to me and gives me a small smile. “I never in a million years thought I’d be one of those girls who enjoyed having a man fight her battles for her, but I have to say, a little part of me jumped up and down cheering when you punched him.”

I walk to her and put a hand along her cheek. “So you’re not pissed?” I’m hopeful.

She shrugs. “I know I should be. It’s one thing for me to give my brothers hell, but family loyalty says I shouldn’t encourage other people to do it.”

I turn to look at the piano, running a finger over the pristine keys, careful not to depress them and make any sound. “You think James would have that same kind of loyalty to you?”

She snorts. “He would, but it would be about him. He’d tell someone not to insult me because he’d consider it an insult to him, to the whole family. I know he doesn’t give a shit about how people treat me, which is why I’m having a hard time giving a shit that you beat the crap out of him.”