#Kissing (Rock and Romance #1) (26 page)

Chapter 71

The music flows over me like a wave, like baptism. I'm refreshed, energized, and invigorated. I was thirsty and the elixir wasn't water, but sound. The pounding notes and driving guitars draw me forward. As I move through the crowd, elbows and boots leave me raw and eager to get to the front.

The Halos' songs punch me from the inside out, knocking the rebellion in me loose as I raise a fist in the air and pump along to the familiar rhythms. I fall in fast as one song morphs into another. There's a new one I haven't heard before and it strips me down to my barest parts—the fundamental me that requires music more than oxygen to live. I fall hard and fast as the chords progress to the chorus.

Niko sings, "I need you, you need me too, but I'm left black and blue." By the third round, I sing along, drinking the words until they're part of my blood.

Next, Mitty plays a steady bass line and Kenji rolls a beat on the drums as Niko parades around the stage, clapping his hands to get the audience involved. "Jill on guitar," he says, introducing her with wide arms as though she's a prize in a gameshow. The applause swells before he goes on. "Kenji the animal back there on drums."

He plays a wild solo before sending the sticks flying through the air and into the hands of a lucky member of the audience. There's shouting and screaming.

Jill picks up with a guitar riff while Niko introduces Mitty. "My man Mitty on the bass." The crowd reaches a fever pitch.

The trio jam and then all together they shout into their microphones, "Niko." The audience goes absolutely crazy.

Before the clamor dies down, he bellows into the microphone, "Show us your tits," and they break into the eponymous song.

Guys hoist girls on their shoulders, girls boost girls up, and there are boobs everywhere. Not to be outdone, I slink to the front of the stage and lift my shirt and laugh long and wild. When I lower it, Niko's eyes lock on mine.

That moment is the end of me, knowing I belong in this rowdy crowd where there is no hierarchy of GPAs and alma maters, professions or aspirations. The playing field is level and made of dirt. It's gritty and real. All that matters is the sound, the tits, and everyone's energy channeling into a collective supernova.

As before, I'm liberated from boundaries and expectations. I howl as the song changes and then another and another, sloughing through delusion to the truth that I'm nothing more than a reckless rebel. The only other time I feel this kind of power flowing through me is when I'm pouring my heart and soul into music on the piano from the tips of my fingers.

A tiny voice tells me that's where I belong, seated at the piano. It also whispers Jesse's name, reminding me of how special I am to him, but right now, the music is louder.

After the last song of the set, the audience demands more from the imported novelty that's blown up and become a favorite of every music fan with secret pockets of lust, anger, and riot inside. The Halos oblige, first playing another new song that reminds me of the sleepy end to a party before shifting into a melody of three of their hits mashed up to create auditory mayhem. The crowd eats it up. I do too.

When they leave the stage for good, my phone almost instantly buzzes in my back pocket. Niko.
Meet me by the stage door.

Chapter 72

My pulse quickens, this night reminding me of so many others, of the inevitable debauchery, the party, and sex. My hesitation is long enough for someone to step on my toe, but the anger at the sharp pain thrusts me forward.

The bouncer gives me a once over, but then the door whooshes open and Niko grasps me tight, breathing me in, pulling me to the other side where I'm more than a fan, but part of a family.

"You came."

"Famous last words," I mutter as he slings his arm around my shoulder in the exact place it always fit so neatly. I don't shove him off. I should.

Like the rock and roll power couple we once were, we glide through the space behind the auditorium. I sense eyes on us, calculating, assuming, and I do nothing to make them think otherwise.

The band decompresses in the green room, Mitty wipes sweat from his brow with a rag in his giant hand, Jill chugs golden liquid, and an assortment of gorgeous women surround Kenji.

"Look who I brought home," Niko announces when we enter.

Attention lands on us. Kenji smiles and throws me a peace sign. Mitty gets up to give me a hug, glancing back at a guy in glasses seated next to him on the couch. Even Jill looks happy, or maybe the expression is closer to relief.

Various groupies and fans filter in, crowding the room, including Slade and Kat. She hasn't spotted me, or she's figuring out how to sabotage my reappearance.

A beer lands in my hand. It's almost as if nothing changed, except Mitty's arm is around the shoulder of the guy he was sitting next to.

"Thank you for not freaking out about the text I sent," he says quietly.

We glance over at Niko, who's on his phone. He's paler and less animated than usual, but that could be the long days on the road, touring, playing shows, constantly performing, and craving my presence.

It's strange to feel needed, as if I matter more than grades and accomplishments. Appreciating me, the person, and not just the things that I do. An image of JQ slants into my mind, but I shake it away. His world is too clean and organized. I was trying to fit myself where I don't belong. Here, I don't have to decide. I've been chosen.

"So, are you going to introduce me?" I ask Mitty.

Their lingering gaze tells me Mitty let himself love, at last. "Oh, shit. My manners. Rhys, this Josie. Josie meet Rhys."

We chat for a few more minutes before Niko, his face lit up like I'm the biggest, wildest rollercoaster at an amusement park, cruises over to me.

He whispers, "Thought I lost you again." His lips slip beneath my ear, landing on my skin with a kiss, but I step back, and a little voice pipes up warning me not to lose yourself again. I ignore it with a swallow of my beer.

"We're heading back to the hotel." His eyes are sleepy and so am I.

A shower and a king size bed with room service sounds appealing. When we exit into the New York night, the winter air slaps me in the face, waking me up. But the alcohol in my blood makes me forgetful and slow. Niko takes my hand. It's easier to live in this dream than to face reality.

Instead of going to Niko's room, we end up at a bar on the top floor. The glass windows trick me into thinking we're still outside, dancing in the sky. Niko gets us drinks and we drift from group to group, talking, laughing, and lying.

In a dark corner, Niko backs me into a wall. His fingers test the sleeves of my shirt, the hem, and the neckline, greedy for what's underneath.

His breath catches as our thighs press together. Then he grips my jaw and pulls me in for a kiss. There's a fluttering rush of naughty play, but I turn away.

"We can't just pick up where we left off," I say.

I want to go back to his room and lie down, but not sleep together. Instead, we make a second pass around the room, mingling and promoting the Halos by being our rowdy, salty-mouthed selves.

A guy with a sateen jacket and baggy pants catches Niko's eye. He trots off, disappearing into the crowd. I lose the thread of conversation I was having with a girl wearing boots up to her knees when Kat prowls close.

"You decided to come back? Hey everyone, it's Josie, the star of the #Kissing videos. I would have thought that turned Niko off." Her accented voice drips with disdain.

"That was the intention, but my plan backfired."

"So you're just here for the power play then, huh?"

"No, Kat. Despite what you may think, we don't share the same aspirations."

"Then why are you here?"

I search the room for Niko, but don't spot him.

She tries to answer her own question for me. "I'll tell you what, you broke him. He's been a fucked up mess. He mopes around, saying he needs you, but then gets high or drunk and forgets. See? You're easily forgotten."

"Actually," I correct, "you contributed to Niko cheating on me, so if we're being specific you're mostly to blame." I take a long sip of my drink. "So why don't you forget me. We can pretend this conversation never happened. Go and meddle in other people's lives, and I'll deal with my business with Niko."

"No, actually, you won't. The internet sensation you produced gave me an idea. Remember what I said about him getting so messed up he doesn't know what's going on? Well, I took it upon myself to have a peek at his home videos. Hashtag sex tape, bitch. Oh, and I didn’t set anything up. He's been cheating on you for years."

"First of all, that's private. Second, I don't believe you. Third, why don't you get a life?"

"Why won't you leave for good?" she snarls.

"Because, unlike you, the members of the Halos like me."

"And you think they don't like me? I was here before you, if you recall."

"You're Slade's fuck buddy, trying to climb the rungs to fame. Why don't you shift your aspirations to porn star and be done with it. You could probably gain a good following."

"Screw you."

"No, really, why do you care about this band?"

Her expression drains of meaning, but she thrusts her chest and juts her chin while shaking her head. "I also happen to have a video of you and a needle. Incriminating evidence, Josie."

"Hashtag diabetes blows, you fucking idiot."

She leans close, her voice a venomous hiss in my face. "Likely story. Listen, if you're not gone tomorrow, I'm going to destroy you. Hashtag you're ruined."

Chapter 73

The night unravels as I toss back another drink. Niko's by my side as often as he disappears. Slade wanders by and I shout the cliché of his name. "Slade." I hiccup. "Tell your fucking pet to get out of my business." I make a clawing motion in the air and fall into hysterical laughter.

I thought I'd cracked in high school when I walked out of my social science class after the teacher said that studies show success only comes from graduating college. A laugh erupted from me as I shook my head, backing out of the room, lifting my two hands in the air and throwing my middle fingers up before saying, "Fuck this. I'm out of here."

Apparently, that just caused fissures in my foundation. This time I open wide with laughter, anarchy pouring from me as my eyes land on Kat. I lip the words, "Fuck you," flip her off, and smack Niko on the mouth with a big kiss for the entire room to see.

Somewhere between being buzzed and being wasted, Niko tempts me with his bedroom eyes. We exit to the corridor; it bends with every step I take. My laughter, echoing down the hall is a vicious thing. We ride the elevator and he leans against me, but I can't hold him up and the swooping in my belly tells me I don't want to; it's not my job.

We shamble down another hall, try the wrong door, and then I say, "We’re lost." The words are mushy in my mouth.

Niko tries to kiss me, but misses. Fortunately, we find the correct room.

Then in a grand, anti-climactic turn of the night, he passes out.

I lay there awake for hours, my thoughts spinning and spinning until they land on relief. I'm glad we didn't have sex, mostly because of what that would mean for JQ and me; being here is betrayal enough.

I chug water, trying to get my thoughts to clear and answer the question
why am I here
?

The room slowly returns to focus. I fall asleep playing chess with Minka234 on the app she told me about.

Hard gray light wakes me up along with a text alert from my phone. It's JQ.
Hey, checking in on how things are going at chateau Speedwell. I hope you've eaten a lot of chocolate and latkes, but saved room for eggnog pie. Yup, that's right, my mom is expanding her menu this year. She's excited for you to be with us. Me too. XO

Niko sleeps beside me, still clothed. When I stand up, the room spins. I forgot to take my medicine. I kind of hate myself right now. I hate that I'm so weak that I fell right back into this pattern of being careless, drunk, and not looking after myself. Mostly, I hate myself for what I've done to JQ, to us.

In the bathroom, I unsheathe the needle, and prick my skin with unnecessary force. Afterward, I splash water on my face, unable to meet my reflection in the mirror. When I stump back to the bedroom, something hard and plastic pokes into my foot. I pick it up. It's a casing to a hypodermic needle. I frown, knowing the cover to mine is securely in place in my bag.

Niko, sprawled on the bed, has red marks on his arms. I don't kind of hate myself; it's more like sharp and dense loathing.

I go to the Village to retrieve my bags from the music shop, not bothering with the train, half hoping the drizzle and concrete will wash away my woes. What I'm really hoping for is a way to turn back time, but no amount of magical thinking will relieve me of the burden of guilt.

The door jingles when I go in, but instead of sitting down at the piano in the back, I take my luggage. On the way out, the wiry haired shopkeeper calls to me. "You're good, but there's nothing saying you can't be better."

I turn around and shake my head. "No, I'm bad. Very, very bad."

"You could change that you know," he says as the door shushes closed.

But I don't. Not yet.