Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin by Mariana Zapata
I took a step forward closer to my bunk, fighting the nausea in my gut.
“We can’t do this here…” he said just barely loud enough for me to hear.
Oh, fucking hell.
My head pounded. My stomach was in a knot. Tears swam in my eyes for all of a split second before I slipped my upper body into my bunk, snatched my phone from the corner I always left it, and came back out, smashing my elbow into the wooden frame that connected all of the beds. Did it hurt like hell? Yeah, but I didn’t even have it in me to cuss because I’d made so much noise, and I needed to get the hell off the bus as soon as possible. Two minutes ago, preferably.
What the hell was wrong with me?
My heart thumped erratically as I walked by Gordo on the way out; my fists had begun shaking. I recognized the feeling manifesting itself through my body all too well.
I was jealous. Horribly, stupidly, pathetically jealous.
Jealous of the redhead who was sitting side by side with Sacha. With his arm around her. Touching her face with his.
I mean, they could have been friends, but I didn’t want to be naïve either. Mason and I were closer than best friends, and we didn’t really have physical boundaries with each other, but we never sat together, whispering. Usually we were picking on one another, not cuddling and crap. There was an intimacy to the moment that spoke volumes.
It made me want to cry.
But I wouldn’t do it.
Sacha was my friend. I shouldn’t have any feelings for him, much less possessive feelings, but I did. They were just buried deep down in the back of my head, obviously, because I’d been swimming in a river called Da Nile.
I liked him. I liked him a lot, apparently, if the awful, shit emotions that were making a snack out of my nervous system were correct. Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I had almost forgotten Eli and Mason might be waiting for me when I made it to the side of the venue building, but they were there, standing around looking at their phones. Before they could see me, I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand to make sure my body wasn’t being a damn traitor and tried to get my facial muscles under control.
This wasn’t the time to get upset. Hell, it was never the time to get upset over Sacha spending time with a girl. On the bus. With his arm around her.
I was not going to get upset. I was not going to get upset, damn it.
I’d heard all kinds of stories over the years of band members screwing around with their fans. Hell, Mason had said something about having sex with some girl behind the bus in Las Vegas a few days ago. Every single time I’d gone on tour with Ghost Orchid, all of the monsters would have some kind of one-on-one “interaction” with their fans, even Gordo. That’s what single guys did. And some not-so-single guys that doubled as unfaithful pieces of crap.
It was a tale as old as time. Even the least attractive band member got hit on by a fan or audience member once; whether they did something about it was a different thing. There was something about musicians, even semi-popular ones, that made them more attractive to women. I understood that.
Only this time, it felt like a jab to the kidney to see a man I wasn’t dating, who wasn’t anything more than a friend to me, with someone in the bus.
I felt…
“The hell is wrong with you?” my twin asked with a scrunched-up nose as I walked up to them.
“My leg hurts from where I scraped it,” I quickly lied.
Eli blinked. “Dumbass.”
And he let it go for a little while.
While we ate, he kept looking at me, asking if I was fine—or in his exact words, “What’s up your ass?” I kept telling him my Achilles hurt, that I was cramping, and I wasn’t feeling well. Mason frowned the entire meal.
I couldn’t help but notice how Eli came to see me during the show that night, which meant he actually came to the stand instead of staying backstage or on the bus the entire time. He didn’t ask any more what was wrong, but I knew he could tell something was bothering me. The whole Sacha thing in the bus had left a hole in my chest. I was sad. Sad. It was pitiful.
I couldn’t even enjoy the show. I shoved my earplugs in and sat with my arms crossed every chance possible. Of course it was the night that the audience was super-chatty and people were mentioning Sacha’s name every five seconds because it was his hometown.
At some point, a fan tried to walk off with two CDs that had been sitting as display on the table, and that turned into a debacle with me confronting him, and the security guards having to get involved once Carter called them over. The guy called me a bitch before he got kicked out of the show. So, overall, things could have been going better. A lot better.
I didn’t even take a break that night except to go pee and change my pad because I didn’t want to deal with anyone.
I thought my night would be over the moment I finished packing up and helping Carter load the dolly.
But fate had other plans and wanted to turn that silver dagger in my gut one last time.
“We’re going to eat, Flabs,” Eliza told me as soon as I’d gotten on the bus.
I frowned because I was feeling that bitchy. “I’m not hungry.”
The look he shot me could have melted wax. “You aren’t hungry? Now I know something is wrong. You’re never not hungry.”
Leave it to Eli to actually pay attention every once in a while. I didn’t give him enough credit. My twin knew me. He was a lot smarter and kinder than his rusted, creaky heart gave him credit for. If there were anyone Eli would move Kilimanjaro for, it would be me.
Maybe. If I asked him on the right day at the right moment with a blue moon in the background.
If I lied to him completely and said that nothing was wrong, he would know. He always did and already had, which was why he hadn’t stopped asking. So I went with the next best thing: a partial lie. “I feel sick. That’s all.”
“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes. “Too bad, you’re eating. Otherwise, I’m going to be stuck listening to you whine in a couple of hours about how you’re starving and that shit is annoying.” He glanced at me for another second before pulling me onto the seat next to him, throwing his heavy arm over my shoulders.
I didn’t even care that he was sweaty, so I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Tuning out everyone getting on the bus, I felt it start moving, but I stayed in my spot, appreciating the rare moment in which my brother was both quiet and comforting at the same time. The next thing I knew, the bus was stopping again across the street from some diner. I got out with the rest of Ghost Orchid, the members of TCC following behind, though I wasn’t exactly keeping an eye.
A warm hand grasped my shoulder as we walked in. It was Mason, looking at me with concerned aquamarine eyes. “Not feeling good?”
“Not really.” I gave him a half-hearted smile.
I didn’t want to look behind me, but because I was an idiot, I did. I spotted Sacha in the parking lot with two guys, another girl and the redhead from earlier, before they made their way inside. My stomach sputtered again, and I turned back around to wait for the waitress to join three large tables for all of us to sit.
“Did you see E trip getting offstage?” Mason asked, rooted in his spot next to me.
Under normal circumstances, I would have asked for specific details and been disappointed that I missed my twin embarrassing himself, but it was a testament to the green-eyed bitch in my heart that I could barely smile. “No.”
He frowned and yanked on the end of my sweaty ponytail hard enough to make me yelp. “I don’t like seeing you like this. Quit it.”
“You dick,” I groaned, rubbing the spot where my hair was tied back. “I hope your razor yanks a couple pubes out the next time you shave down there,” I muttered.
Mason laughed. “There’s my bride.” He elbowed me with a wink. “And I don’t shave.”
Oh my God.
Just like that, I told myself to ignore the feeling in stomach and I did, mostly. I snorted, thought about hugg
I spotted Sacha three seats down on the same side I was on. I may or may not have noticed that he pulled out the chair next to him for the redhead before they took their seats. I ordered my food and tried to focus on the conversation around me—one was about Fruity Pebbles versus Frosted Flakes, and the other discussed woods used as guitar fingerboards. At one point, I noticed Sacha leaning forward over the table looking at me but luckily Eliza moved a split second later, blocking his view.
When I got up to the use the restroom after finishing my meal, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started poking around at the screen like I was busy sending an important text message so I could focus on that and not the people I was walking by. Once in the bathroom, I used it as slowly as possible, willing away that crappy, unsettling sensation that seemed to jackhammer away at my nerves.
He had a girlfriend, or a girl he was interested in. Was that really so surprising? It shouldn’t be.
I wasn’t particularly stunning; I rarely put a whole bunch of effort into my appearance, and we constantly teased each other and talked about bodily functions. That wasn’t exactly screaming romance.
Fine. It was fine. Everything was okay; at least it would be.
I ducked out of the bathroom, heading back to the table with a headache. Unlike before, I trained my eyes on the wall ahead of me so that I wouldn’t look down when I passed Sacha’s seat. Was I being immature? Maybe a little, but I didn’t care. My heart was pounding, my head was throbbing, and I felt like a fucking moron.
The warm, firm grasp that landed on my forearm stopped me right when I saw the shaved hair on the side of Sacha’s head in my peripheral vision.
“Fight Club,” his low voice murmured, tightening his grip on my arm.
It took everything in me to swallow the bile that had mysteriously appeared in my stomach before I glanced at him, as blankly and indifferently as possible. Friends. We were friends, I reminded myself. “Hey.”
Those pale gray eyes flickered over my face, which I knew was smudged with eyeliner and slightly oily from how much I’d sweated throughout the day. My hair was a side-ponytail mess and there were also ketchup stains on my shirt. So, pretty much, I looked as attractive as possible…
To a blind man.
“Gaby, I want you to meet my friends.” Sacha said, watching me swallow hard. He started pointing at the four people surrounding him. “That’s Matt, Seb, Bianca and Liz.”
Liz. The redhead.
Reaching deep inside of myself for my inner adult, I pulled my arm loose of Sacha’s grasp to look at his “friends” and I waved. “Hi,” I greeted them, noticing just how fake the red color in his “friend’s” hair was. Who did she think she was? The Little Mermaid?
They all greeted me, but it was the final person who made my head hurt worse.
“Hi,” Ronald McDonald’s illegitimate daughter replied, blinking big, brown eyes in my direction. She had that kind of classic beauty that would give a photographer a boner. And perfect, clear, pale skin.
What a bitch.
“Your hair is so cute,” she added.
A big part of me wanted to say something really bitchy like “does it look like I care” or “go fuck yourself.” I didn’t though. But I really wanted to.
It was my period talking. Right.
I just smiled stiffly. “Thanks.”
“I wanted you to meet them earlier, but you disappeared on me,” Sacha explained with a smile on his face that made my stomach want to revolt.
I nodded at him, but it was so forced I’m sure my extreme level of discomfort had to be apparent.
Awkward.
I coughed and pointed down the table. “I’m going to finish eating. It was—” I nearly choked on my words because I was a terrible liar, “nice meeting you all.”
I didn’t even bother waiting for anyone to say anything before I was back in my seat, feeling like a complete fool. I knew how unrealistic it had been for me to say that I’d never have feelings for another man because I didn’t want the drama associated with a breakup ever again, but this was ridiculous. I felt betrayed and I had no reason to. I was just a girl Sacha had met and got along with because we were stuck on a bus on a trip together. That was all. My stupid fucking heart sucked; it strained in its cage while I sat there miserably.
I didn’t speak to Sacha for a week.
Chapter Eleven
“What are you doing, little girl?” a voice whispered at the same time a hand clamped down on my arm.
Instead of screaming like most sane people would if they were sitting in the dark watching Sabrina with a bottle of wine in hand—I peed myself a little bit. Honest to God. I peed myself. Not much, but enough.
But I’d like to justify what happened by admitting that my subconscious would always recognize the asshole that had apparently crawled across the floor to scare the Jesus out of me.
“Damn it, Mase,” I hissed as I pulled my legs to my chest, sitting up straight.
Sure enough, he was lying on the floor with a big grin on his face. “Did I get’cha?” he asked as he brushed his pajama pants off and got to his feet.
“Yeah. I need to go change my underwear now, thanks.” Thankfully, I’d brought my backpack out of the bunk area when I’d gotten up.
I ignored his laughter as I went into the bathroom and changed out of my super-sexy period underwear, putting them into one of the plastic bags we left stashed under the sink in case of emergencies. I noted that my period was, in fact, finally over. I hadn’t been sure if my hormones were still out of whack due to it, or if I was just being grumpy because I could be.
I’d still been feeling pretty bitchy all afternoon and all night—okay, all week—but it got worse after I’d run to the trailer in the middle of the opening act’s set and zeroed in on Sacha, Julian and Miles being surrounded by five girls wearing shorts that looked more like underwear and cropped tops. Prostitutes.
To be fair I’d tried to stay away from just about everyone except Carter, who was the only calming influence on the tour, over the last seven days. I did it mainly because I knew I was being mopey and moody. There was also the fact that my three baboons knew me too well, and if they put their minds to it, could figure out there was more to my attitude than simply a bad period.
So I’d told them all I was sick.
Which was why I’d been hiding in my bunk for the most part over the course of the week.
Except tonight I hadn’t been able to fall asleep. It was the first night of a two-day drive from Winnipeg to Toronto, and I had slept most of the day. I’d laid in bed reading until my eyes hurt, and by that time, the bus had gone silent, leading me to believe everyone had gone to sleep. Quiet as a ninja, I got up, snuck out of the bunk area with my backpack, pulled out the bottle of wine I’d bought that afternoon from the fridge and flipped through the satellite channels on television.
Not even half an hour into the old classic movie and Mase had gotten up.
Hating the idea of going back to bed, I headed back into the living area to find him sitting on the opposite couch I’d been on, sipping wine straight from the bottle as he watched the movie on the same super-low volume I’d left it on. When he heard me close the bathroom door, he looked over and smiled.
“Got some new panties on?”
“Ha ha,” I muttered.
Mase simply grinned as he took another drink. His eyes strayed to the screen. I sat in the same spot I’d been in and went back to watching the movie. A few minutes passed before I felt the nudge of glass against my hand. He was holding the bottle out for me to take and I did.
I’d barely taken a sip when he asked, “You finally over it?”
“I’m feeling a little better,” I answered, eyeing him, trying to be all c
He gave me a flat look that immediately made me sit up straight. “Do I have STUPID written on my forehead?”
I blinked. “Is this a trick question or…?”
The jackass didn’t even hesitate in the split second between when I finished trailing off and the time it took him to reach across the walkway to pinch my butt cheek. I squealed and tried to pull away but it only made the sting worse.
“Are you over your shit with Sacha?” He finally just went right on out there and asked after letting go of my battered booty.
Umm.
What could I do? I just stared at him. If I didn’t admit or deny anything…
“Daddy Mason knows everything.” He raised his eyebrows as he sat back against the couch again. “Everything,” he enunciated.
Oh hell. “What—”
Mason stared at me with those intense blue eyes, and I stopped talking. We both knew it was pointless. Here I was thinking I was being slick by hiding and pretending I had a virus, and he’d known the truth. Which only meant the other two idiots had to know too.
That knowledge was definitely worth the sigh that came out of me as I shrugged, resigned. I scrunched up my nose, wrapping my arms around my bent knees again. “Is it that obvious?”
He shrugged back. “We figured it out the day after San Francisco.”
I winced.
“You can’t hide shit from us,” he said, confirming what I should have already known.
I sighed again. “That’s what I was afraid of, damn it.” Thinking about it for a second, something occurred to me. “Why didn’t Eli say anything?” We both knew he didn’t know how or when to shut up. Hell, everyone knew that about him.
“He doesn’t want to piss you off.”
Yeah, that made me scoff. “Since when?” He usually went out of his way to aggravate me.
That had Mase grinning. “Since you left last time, Flabs. Shit, I don’t want to piss you off too much either. That whole thing sucked.” He paused and gave me what could have been considered a bashful look if it had lasted longer than a second. “How many months did we go before you started talking to us again?”