The Redemption(8)

I eye him, wondering where this is going. “You did.”

“You’re damn right I did. I took my sticks at intermission and left a paying gig to go meet your boys. Do you know why I did that?”

“No. Why?”

“Because I was better than a cover band drummer on a Tuesday night in Hollywood, even with the pay.”

I nod. I’m following his train of thought as he drives his point home.

“So stop treating me like I am. We’re The motherf*cking Resistance and we’re better than this year’s video game simulation that followed some cheesy, hair-band from the 80’s in last year’s edition.”

I gather my papers and slip off the stool. As I start to leave, he grabs my wrist as I pass, and I stop, my breath caught in my throat just from his touch. His grip loosens, and I try to steady my voice when I say, “I got the message. I’ll talk to the guys, but majority rules. You agreed to that when you left that other band.”

He releases my wrist and my skin is left bare, his touch feeling better than I remember.

I open the door, and step out, but stop. Looking over my shoulder, I add, “I like the shorter hair on you. You look good.” Closing the door behind me, I don’t wait for a response. The boy I convinced to leave a dead-end band on Sunset way back then has turned into a man and a force to be reckoned with—mentally and physically. Memories of our night together before I screwed up come flashing back, but the humiliation of my mistake overtakes the warmth I’m feeling.

I should have gone with my gut. I convinced myself that we were wrong before I even gave the alternative a chance. My instincts told me to stay with him despite my mistake of calling him Cory. My head said to run. My more logical side seems to always get in the way.

“Wait up, Rochelle.” I hear him behind me.

When I look back, he’s leaning against the door opening, his eyes set on me. Even at rest, his muscles are defined. His arms carved from strength and power. Despite being hidden under the cotton of his T-shirt, his abs tease me as I remember how I once licked them. “What’s up?” I turn the focus back on business, trying to sound indifferent.

“It’s been a long time, a couple months since I saw you.” He pauses. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be seen again,” I joke, trying to cover my nervous excitement.

He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stands upright. “You should come to the show in New York. The band always has fun there.”

I open my car door and step up on the running board, looking at him over the top of my SUV. “Yeah, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Yeah, okay.”

With a small smile of my own, I give a little wave. “See ya around.”

I start to step into the vehicle, but I stop when I hear him say, “See ya around. Oh, and Rochelle?”

Popping back up, I answer, “Yes?”

“You look good, too.”

My smile isn’t little anymore. It’s full on ridiculous. “Thanks.”

If I wasn’t so aware of every nerve in my body and beat of my heart when I get inside the Escalade, I might have missed how my heart just leaped.

While pulling out of Dex’s gated community, I call Johnny. It’s only ten-thirty, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t answer. I leave a message, warning him that Dex may not sign and I might just agree with him.

I call my nanny, Beth, and let her know that she’ll need to pick up the boys today. With all the thoughts crowding my head, I need therapy. So I call one of my best friends, Lara, to meet me. I met her in yoga years before it became trendy. We quit after two weeks, preferring to cocktail together rather than work out. We’ve been great friends ever since. “Shopping?” I ask, when she answers.

“Beverly Center, Melrose, or the boutiques down near the beach.”

Today is about shopping for me, so I reply, “Suru on Melrose?”

“Suru. For sure. They just got in their new collection.”

“I’ll see you there in twenty.”

“It will take me thirty.”

“Cool.” We disconnect, and I smile, excited to see her. She’s always up to go out and I like that.

Just over an hour later, I’m standing near the far wall of Suru in front of newly altered frocks, and I say, “I think I like Dex.” I peek over at her.

Her head remains down, focused on finding her size in a stack of jeans. “I like him too. He’s always been cool. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He got his hair cut.”

She looks up, so I look down. “Really? I liked the medium length on him. He could pull it off.”

“It’s shorter. Short now.”

When I look up again, she’s staring at me. “Why are we having a full-blown conversation about Dex’s hair?”

I shrug it off. “No reason. I just saw him this morning about some contracts. Just making chitchat.”

“Oookaay,” she replies like I’m crazy before returning her attention to the clothes in front of her. “The boys are good?”

“They’re great. Dating much?”

“Too much. It sucks. Be glad you’ve decided to stay single.”

My hand stops on a blue dress. “I didn’t decide to stay single.”