I rolled my eyes. “At least you’re honest.”
“That makes one of us.” His hand went to the small of my back to urge me through the doorway before him, and goose bumps followed in the wake of his fingertips. “I think you’ll enjoy the show.”
“Not a big fan of rock music.”
“That so?” He grinned, and I could tell I was annoying him. But that didn’t stop me from rambling on further. Someone needed to knock this guy down a peg or two.
“It’s just loud noise and mindless screaming.”
“I can see why you have a job working with the public. So pleasant.”
“I get that a lot.” I tucked my long, dark hair behind my ear as we made our way down the mint-colored corridor. A few people lingered in the hall. They all smiled and nodded to him, and he returned the gesture as he urged me forward.
“Stay while we rehearse. Maybe you’ll change your mind,” he said simply as a man in thick, rimmed glasses opened a door and stepped back to let us through as I eyed the handle.
“I really can’t. I have a lot of work to do.”
“I could always tell Maric that you didn’t want to help out.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I get that a lot.” He mocked me as we entered another hall and continued farther down. The sound of a guitar off in the distance played a slow, haunting tune that gave me chills. “That’s Hangman. He can’t pay attention enough to order a damn meal, but you put an instrument in his hands, and he’s genius.” Rellik smiled over at me. His lower lip was swollen and tinged red. He must have seen my worried expression because his tongue ran over his lip.
“It doesn’t hurt.” He reached out to open a door. The dried blood on his knuckles caused me to gasp, but blood and gaping wounds were nothing new to me. What was more shocking was that someone had gotten those wounds defending me, and I had been nothing but a bitch to him.
“I should clean that for you,” I said, and the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he pushed the door open. A man sat across the room on a couch with a guitar on his lap and a cigarette between his lips. His eyes were closed as he exhaled, cloaking himself in a thick haze of smoke. His fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, and I was in awe of his talent.
He had strong, angular features, and his hair was the color of sand with strands of honey throughout that hung haphazardly over his eyes. I inhaled and realized that what he was smoking was anything but tobacco.
“Hang, this is Ella,” Rellik called out. The guy’s red-rimmed eyes shot open, and he smiled. His fingers stopped, and he took the joint from his mouth, relaxing back on the couch.
“You took the time to learn her name. I’m impressed.”
“She’s not a groupie, asshole. In fact, she hates our kind of music.” Rellik’s voice was laced with amusement.
“Is that right?” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile as he shook his head. “A challenge.”
“Where’s Phantom and Trigger?” As he spoke, my eyes darted around the room, but it was only the three of us behind a flimsy pressed-wood door.
“Ran to get munchies from the gas station.” He put the joint to his mouth and inhaled as he eyed me curiously. I tried not to stare at the large tribal tattoo that crept over his right shoulder and down his toned chest. He was in shape without an ounce of fat, but not as muscular as Rellik. “You wanna hit this?” he asked with a smile, and I struggled not to roll my eyes at the double entendre. He waved the joint in the air toward me as he exhaled. “It’s medicinal, I swear. It’s the only way I can put up with Rellik.” He winked and I felt my cheeks blush. “Something tells me you might need it.”
“Make yourself at home. It might help you relax.” Rellik stepped around me and walked to another guitar that was propped against the far wall. He picked it up by the neck and sat down on an oversized chair. I awkwardly stood next to the door as Hangman’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me. It probably wasn’t often a woman was standoffish with them.
Rellik strummed the acoustic guitar as he began to sing, low and gravelly. His eyebrows pulled together as if in pain as he continued. I forced myself to relax as I began to walk toward him. The anguish and torture in his voice spoke to me. It was like he had unraveled all of my secrets and strung them together, set to a slow, steady beat that kept in time with my pulse. It wasn’t anything like I expected from him after seeing how violent he could become just moments before.
Fighting away your fears, screams falling on deaf ears.
Heaven help what we’ve become.