Chasing the Music: For the Love of Music Book 0.5 (20 page)

Griffin closed his eyes. “It’s not… I was trying to help.”

“Stop it. If you have something to say to her, write it down because with the fury she aimed at you last night, that’s probably your only chance of her hearing anything you have to say. Also, I promise you, she will destroy you if you let her in. I’m saying this as your brother.”

“Great.” Only not at all great. “Thank you.”

Griffin started strumming and Ryker closed his eyes as he sunk further into the chair. “I was thinking of… I was thinking of maybe hanging at home for six months or so. You know, after the tour’s over.”

Griffin’s hands froze. “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. To catch up with old high school friends. To spend time with Mom. Lots of reasons.”

“You hate that town.”

Ryker shrugged, his eyes still closed. “Yeah, but now I’m the big man back from the city. It’s all good.”

“There’s not really enough room for both of us in the trailer.”

Ryker blinked. “That’s sort of the point, idiot.” And then he stood.

Griffin watched his brother go toward the back of the bus. It was the closest thing he’d ever get to an offer to help, and maybe it was time he took it. He still had no idea what to do with himself if neither his mom or Stacy needed him.

Griffin plucked at the strings, and hummed a tune that had come to him that morning. He slid his phone onto his leg in case something really struck him. There were very few things more frustrating than having words in your head, and nowhere to get them down.

Suddenly he knew just what he wanted to say to Lita.

Twenty-three

Lita sipped her hot coffee and stared out the window of another hotel room. The comforter from her bedroom was wrapped around her as she sat on the small couch of the suite. They were at the point in the tour where even the cities had begun to look the same.

They’d postponed her Atlanta show by one day for her voice to recover. It meant there would be no day off between Atlanta and Miami, but it would be worth it. After Miami she had three days before driving back up to Washington D.C., so she hoped to recover then. At least before they made their way up the rest of the east coast.

She’d never had such a lax schedule, and she’d never been so exhausted.

“How’s the throat?” Bridget asked, and Lita nodded in response.

This not talking thing was sort of nice. It’s not like she had anything to say to anyone. Anything she wanted to discuss. It was something else that helped her stay to herself.

“Your dad coming to the show?” she asked. “He’s only an hour away, right?”

Lita shrugged. She hadn’t asked. Hadn’t wanted her dad to tell her he couldn’t come.

“Oh.” Bridget flipped open her iPad. “Griffin dropped this off.”

She tossed the letter toward Lita. “When?”

“When we got here.”

Lita wanted to ask when again. Like, was it the second they arrived? Or sometime after dinnertime? But it shouldn’t matter. What could he say in a letter that would change their circumstances? All it had the chance of doing was making her more upset that she couldn’t have him, and it wasn’t a position she wanted to be in. Or make her feel worse for taking such a perfect song and twisting it the way she had.

She fingered the letter and then thought about his arms around her. How he said he felt torn. What it felt like to just sit with him. The picture of him and Stacy together swam through her brain again making her clutch her stomach. It twisted harder when she thought about Griffin’s lips smashed against her own. That was desperate anger. Simple and hard.

“You sick?” Bridget asked absently.

“Are you worried?” Lita leaned over her legs.

Bridget sighed. “You’ll have to be more specific, Lita.”

Lita opened her mouth, but stopped. Humiliation ran over her in a wave at how absurd she felt. “I’ve barely eaten in two weeks. At least not much. Its just stress, I mean… It’s stress. I’m not sure how…” Could she say it? “I don’t know how to deal right now.” And the mess with Griffin and Stacy had just made it worse.

“Then eat.”

Lita frowned and turned away. It wasn’t that easy. How did Griffin get it, but Bridget didn’t? She’d had to stuff the crackers down, and soup sounded perfect, but she was being stupid and stubborn and didn’t care if that was why, but she wasn’t about to let Griffin win this.

Win.

Was that even what it was about?

“Never mind,” Lita said as a crappy realization started to set in. Bridget might not be what she needed anymore.

Lita flipped her phone in her hands. Thought of sending a message to Griff, to Chandler… She wasn’t ready for Griffin’s letter, so maybe that was part of her answer.

Her thumb spun down her small list of contacts until it reached
Dad
, and she hit dial before allowing herself time to over think.

“Lita?” he answered with his sleepy voice.

Her chest warmed and her shoulders relaxed. “Hey, Dad,” she whispered. “Trying to get my voice back.”

“Of course. You’re on tour again, right honey?”

She sniffed as tears crept to the edges of her eyes. “Yeah. I’m playing in Atlanta tomorrow night, and I…”

“Wanted to see if I could come?” he asked. “They let old guys in to these things?”

His voice. It was childhood and Mom and music, and offices where she’d play. Warmth spread from her feet, up her body, relaxing her deeper into the couch.

“Yeah…” she started. “I can meet you backstage.”

Silence hung on the line for a few moments.

“I’m in New York right now, but if you’re here within two weeks, I’ll be around.”

Dates rattled in her brain. “Yeah… I think New York is a week and a half.”

“Okay.” Her dad paused. “Save that voice, and I’ll see you soon.”

“See you,” she whispered.

And the line closed off.

She never knew if her and her dad were closer or further away after they talked. For Lita, every short conversation felt like two more steps away—pretty soon she wouldn’t be able to see him at all.

Twenty-four

“Leave me alone,” Griffin moaned as he clutched the remote. VH1 was doing a special on Lita’s mom’s career, and he wanted to watch it.

Ryker kicked the mattress. “We got an unexpected day off because of Lita’s voice. We’re in Atlanta. As of this morning, you’re legal drinking age. You’re also now single. Get your ass off the bed.”

“Seriously. Fuck off.”

Ryker took a deep breath. “Griffin.”

Griffin turned to face his brother. “Ryker.”

“You
have
to want to get wasted. Come
on.
” Ryker’s hands tapped his knees as he sat waiting.

“Just go without me.”

“Griffin!” Ryker yelled. “It’s your damn birthday! Stop the moping shitty whatever thing you’re doing, and come out with us!”

“Us?”

“The band. The crew. Everyone.”

There
were
only a couple weeks left…

“It’s almost over, man. Don’t miss out.”

“Dammit.” Griffin threw the remote at Ryker before standing. “Dammit.”

Ryker laughed. “I knew it! Come on! I bet you get a freebie with it being your birthday. You just can’t miss out on that.”

He actually could, but he’d catch hell for it later. And just because he’d screwed himself in too many ways, didn’t mean he couldn’t go out. It probably meant the opposite.

Ryker slapped the back of his head.

“Fucker,” Griffin muttered.

“Aren’t you blooming roses tonight.” Ryker snorted. “Stop thinking so damn much, and come out with us.”

Griffin traded his t-shirt out for a different one and followed his brother out the door. Atlanta was waiting, and maybe it was time he let go and allowed himself some fun.

“Where are you going again?” Lita asked.

Bridget smoothed her lips over with another shade of red. “The crew is taking Griffin out for his twenty-first birthday.”

“So that’s why Stacy came?” Lita asked, nearly choking on Stacy’s name. She’d been so so so stupid.

“Beats me. I think she went home, though. Ryker said something about paying for an escort for his little brother’s birthday.”

Lita sat up. “But Griffin’s not into that.”

Bridget scoffed. “I’m sure they didn’t grab some girl off the street, Lita. They’re already out partying together.”

None of this fit with the Griffin she knew. He was so loyal to Stacy that he hadn’t wanted… Oh. Her. Maybe it was his nice way of letting her down instead of telling her he wasn’t interested.

Misery weakened her and she sat back in bed. For a second she contemplated joining the group, but… But she was supposed to be taking care of her voice. And did she even want to put herself in a position to be turned down in yet another way?

Nope.

“Can I borrow that black shirt of yours?” Bridget asked.

Lita waved dismissively. “Yeah. Whatever. Take what you want.”

“Love ya.” Bridget flipped open another suitcase. “All the usuals are in your living room.”

Maybe Dave. Apelu. And… who even knew. Who cared. She was in her room with the door closed, and that’s where she planned to stay.

“I’ve ordered dinner for you,” Bridget said as she slipped Lita’s leather coat over her shoulders.

It pulled on Bridget’s shoulders, whose body was healthier than Lita’s but whatever. She was beyond caring.

“Have fun,” Lita said quietly.

“You try not to talk.” Bridget blew Lita a kiss and disappeared out the door.

Even a year ago Bridget would have never left her alone. Ever. What had changed? Was Bridget was just getting sick of her?

Lita flicked on the TV and was met with her mother’s face.

Her chest caved.

She was already miserable, might as well wallow.

Dinner arrived a half hour later, but all she could bring herself to do was nibble. Why on earth had Bridget gotten her steak and mashed potatoes? So heavy.

Everything was heavy, really.

Lita slid lower in bed, picking small pinches off the dinner roll wishing she could not think about her mom’s death, her dad’s distance, or Griffin out partying it up with his brother and some…prostitute? She could not wrap her head around the idea that Griffin would be into that, but maybe she didn’t know him the way she thought she did.

When her phone beeped in a text, she snatched it up. Pictures. From Bridget.

The guys at the bar tossing back shots. Another picture of her band waving over shot glasses. Griffin plastered against some redhead on the dance floor.

Her stomach flopped over and she dropped her roll.

Whatever.

She didn’t need them.

Any of them.

The music blurred Griffin’s thoughts as he tipped his head back and let another shot slide down his throat. This had been a fantastic idea.

Lita’s anger was gone in a haze of whiskey. So was Stacy’s sad, disappointed face.

“So, you’re having fun?” the woman asked.

Griffin shifted away from her. She’d been sidling into him all night, and he didn’t get it. Instead of answering he turned to face Ryker, but the room slipped on its side, and he grasped the bar to keep it upright.

“You must be having fun!” Ryker yelled over the music. “Why don’t you and hottie over there take off? I won’t be back to the room for a while.” He waggled his brows.

Griffin cringed at the thought of taking this woman back to his hotel room. He didn’t know her. Ryker had to know that wasn’t his style.

Bridget stepped past Griffin again without even glancing his way. One of the guys from the band led her to the sprawling dance floor.

Griffin’s stomach began tumbling like it did when he thought Whiskey was a good idea.

“Hey!” Ryker leaned around Griffin to tap the redhead on the shoulder. “Can you get him back?”

“Sure.” She slipped her hand through Griffin’s arm.

No. NO. This was not what he wanted.

Griffin pushed away from the bar knowing he was going to spend his second day of being twenty-one hung over.

This was shit. Everything was shit. If Lita got his note, why hadn’t she called him?

He pushed around the girl and Ryker and stumbled toward Bridget but the room shifted again, and he pushed his arms out to catch himself before he went over.

“What the hell, Griffin?” Bridget shoved him back.

“Sorry…” He blinked trying to make Bridget one person instead of three. “The note. The letter. Did you pass on the letter?”

“Of course I did you ass, even though I shouldn’t have.” Bridget pushed around Griffin slamming her shoulder into his as she went.