“What? No!” Her brows rise before her gaze flits back to mine briefly. She goes back to studying the silverware, straightening them atop the white cloth napkin. “It’s just in a place I’d rather not show. It’s personal.”
“But it’s not in your Lady Garden?” Trent asks, completely serious.
Her head snaps up. “Watch your mouth! No! I would never . . .” She can’t even say it.
“Does anyone want to see my tattoo?” I scoot my chair back in a movement that almost sends it toppling backward. Not waiting for an answer, I pull off my shirt and lift my right arm.
Opal meets my gaze. If there was ever a look that said thank you without any words, it’s the one she gives me now.
My heart stutters to a gallop. A somersault. Then wheels off the edge of a cliff.
Fuck.I’ve got it bad.
Sean chuckles. “Stupid.”
I turn to meet his stare. “What? It’s Grateful Dead. They’re GREAT.”
“No. You’re an idiot. We’re on tour and that’s gonna hurt like a mother. You play drums, man. There’s this thing called chafing.”
“I can handle it.” I puff up my chest but, shit, I hadn’t really considered it.
“Sure, man.” He shakes his head, laughing.
“Badass.” Austin tips up his chin with approval. He glances down at his own arms. “You only need . . . oh, about another hundred hours or so to catch up.”
“Good thing I’m not trying to be you.” The words come out snippier than I intend. His face shows a flicker of hurt and I immediately wish I could take it back.Fuck.It’s not his fault I’m crushing on Opal. I take the opportunity to pull my shirt back on, careful not to hit the ink.
“I’ve never met anyone like our Austin.” Trent clasps him on the shoulder and pulls him to his side.
“I’m a fucking Rembrandt.”
“Funny.” Trent squints as he assesses his friend. “I always pegged you for a Van Gogh.”
Austin begins to smile, but it falls. “Hey, didn’t that guy cut off his own ear?”
“Yep.” Trent beams.
“Fuck you.” Austin shoves away from Trent’s side and leans his elbows on the table. “I get no respect.”
They’re teasing, but there’s a comradery between these guys that sparks a touch of envy. I’ll never have that. Or be fully included. I understand why. I mean, these guys built their brand, earned fans, and created music from years of hard work and perseverance. I wasn’t a part of that journey. I’m hopping on the train after it already left the station. But man, I yearn for that kind of friendship. Ride or die. Something real.
“Is everyone ready to order, or should I come back?” our server asks.
“I’m starving.” Trent pats his belly.
The server steps between him and Austin, scribbling on his pad.
“Me, too,” Austin grumbles as he scans the menu. “This better be good.”
“Won’t come close to Opal’s cooking, but she’s earned a night off.” I lift my gaze, unable to keep my eyes off of her. The soft smile she gives does that thing to my pulse again.
My phone buzzes from my back pocket and just like that my gut fills with dread. Considering I’m surrounded with the band, I don’t have to guess who it is. “I’m gonna hit the restroom. Order for me? The chicken parm.”
“Sure thing.” She gives me one last smile before I’m out the door.
I head to the restroom before pulling out my cell.
The Devil: Nice work.
