When the song ended, he handed his mic to Trey and launched himself over the drum kit platform to Jessica’s hiding place. She stumbled backwards over a collection of cords, but Sed grabbed her by her upper arms before she could flee.
“What are you doing here?”
She couldn’t answer his question, because she didn’t know. She shook her head, tears streaming down both cheeks.
“I don’t want to see you,” he bellowed. “Don’t you get it? Go away!”
She shook her head harder, tears flying from her cheeks. “No, I don’t get it. I don’t get it at all! What changed, Sed? What… I don’t understand… Please, Sed. Please.”
“You’re gonna beg, Jess? Beg like one of my groupie whores? Go ahead. Beg. Beg me to take you back. It won’t change anything.”
“I love you.” She couldn’t see his expression because his face was blurred behind her tears. “I love you.”
“You and fifty thousand other women.”
He released her and she sat down hard on the stage. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around her shins, buried her face against her knees, and sobbed.
Sed’s voice came through the speaker a moment later. “What do you say, Fresno? Are you ready to climb the gates of Hell?”
Chapter 43
Sed had been unprepared to see Jessica that soon after their breakup. He felt guilty for being so hard on her, but he didn’t think she’d leave otherwise. He refused to be her excuse for giving up on law school and her dreams. Things would never be right between them if that happened. But after the cruel things he’d just said, things would probably never be right between them again anyway.
God, he couldn’t breathe.
Which made it exceedingly difficult to sing.
But not as hard as it was to keep his attention from the back of the stage where he’d left the only woman he’d ever loved sobbing on the floor.
Somehow, he got through “Gates of Hell” and “Good-bye Is Not Forever.” He allowed himself a quick glance behind the drum kit. Jessica was gone. A gaping hole filled the place where his heart had been a few days ago. This was what was best for her. He had to believe that, because it sure as hell wasn’t what was best for him.
When the band went on break, leaving Master Sinclair to dazzle the crowd with his solos, Sed grabbed a licorice rope and stared at the floor, chewing slowly and trying not to think much. He could not allow himself to hunt for Jessica, apologize, grovel for acting like an ass. He had to stick to his guns.
“Where’s Eric?” Jace asked.
Sed glanced up. Usually, Eric would be drenching himself in water and changing from his sweat-saturated shirt into a dry one, but he was conspicuously absent. Sed rounded the back of the drum kit and found Eric trying to coax Jessica out from between two empty equipment cases. How had she managed to cram herself into such a tiny space? Sed hesitated. He couldn’t stand to see her like that, especially knowing he was responsible. Why had she come back? She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d given her a perfect out.
Fuck.
Sed nudged Eric aside and extended a hand toward Jessica. “Come on out of there.”
“Get away from me, you ass**le!” she shouted. “I f**king hate you.”
So they were back to this. He’d thought it would make it easier, but no. “It’s okay to hate me, just do it somewhere safer.”
“Why do you care?”
He reached into the space and grabbed her ankle, trying to tug her out of her hiding spot.
“Don’t touch me.” She kicked at him. The stack of cases wobbled. He released her leg and stepped back.
“All right, I’ll leave you alone. Come out for Eric, though. He’ll be worried about you under there.”
“Yep.” Eric peeled his sopping wet T-shirt off over his head. “And if you don’t, I’ll throw my sweaty shirt in there with you.”
Sed stalked off around the drum kit and once out of sight, paused to watch Jessica squirm from between the equipment cases. When he was sure she was safe, he headed back to the stage. He clapped Brian on the shoulder and encouraged the crowded to cheer their guitar hero’s amazing compositions. He then extended a hand toward Trey, who’d joined Brian in the middle of his last solo and sounded better than ever. A second round of cheering for Trey now.
Sed paused halfway through the next song to get another drink of water. His throat felt raw, his vocal cords strained. He hadn’t consumed enough glycerol during their break, but it shouldn’t have made this much of a difference. On his next carried note, he broke off in the middle with a ragged cough. Maybe he was coming down with a cold. He finished the song, keeping his volume down to alleviate the burning sensation in his throat, and left Trey in charge of the crowd while he headed offstage to chew more red licorice.
Travis, one of their long-time roadies, patted him on the arm. “You okay, Sed?”
He nodded. “Sore throat.” He glanced around, not meaning to look for Jessica, but unable to help himself.
“Do you want me to get you some numbing spray?”
“Yeah, that would help. I’ll be back after ‘Twisted.’” He returned to the stage to find Trey and Jace fighting over a pair of panties that some chick had thrown onstage.
“Did I miss something?” Sed asked.
“Those are for me,” Jace insisted.
“Aw, Trey, let the kid have his panties,” Sed teased.
Trey tossed them over Jace’s head to Brian, who caught them in one hand and dangled them from a finger.
“Ah, fine, whatever,” Jace grumbled and headed to the back of the stage to hang out by the drum kit.
Brian rolled his eyes. “I guess Jace doesn’t want your phone number, sweetie,” he said to the girl who’d tossed them onstage. “Try a bra next time. They fly farther.”
Sed chuckled, but even that hurt. He cleared his throat. “Who out there is feeling a little twisted tonight?”
The crowd cheered in response, knowing it meant Sinners was about to treat them to their most energetic anthem, “Twisted.” Eric thudded his bass drum with the introductory beats of the song. Sed roared through the first measure. When he screamed the first note, something thick and hot poured down the back of his throat. He choked on the liquid, covering his mouth with one hand.
When he drew his hand away, it was covered in blood.
Blood?
He stared at his fingers in disbelief. They blurred out of focus.