Chasing Death Metal Dreams (35 page)

“Mainly with you, Mr. Soon-to-be-rich boy,” Carlos said, twisting the knife. Nate kicked his ankle under the table, so he added, “But yeah, with me too. Only you’re a better target.”

“Shit!” Eli jumped up and paced around the room, cursing with each step. He wasn’t very inventive, Carlos decided, but he was loud and sincere. Good vocal control. Carlos leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto the back two legs, and waited.

Eli finally wound down. He raised a fist, turning to the wall, and Nate snapped out, “Don’t hit my apartment! And cool down. You’re scaring the cat.”

Eli and Carlos both turned to look up at the cat-maze, but there was no sign of the skittish feline that Carlos could see. Given that the cat was deaf to all the yelling, Carlos figured Nate was just jerking Eli’s chain.

“Damn.” Eli huffed out a breath and dropped back into his chair. “So. Now what? I mean, murder’s a possible plan, but I’d rather not get arrested.”

“We have to talk to Foster,” Nate said.

Carlos frowned. “
I
have to talk to Foster.” It still hurt, every time he realized how Foster had tried to use and destroy him, a queasy ache deep inside. “My old bandmate. My problem.”

“If you think you’re going alone, think again,” Nate said.

“I don’t want you anywhere near him, Nate.” Just the thought of Foster going apeshit around Nate made Carlos’s blood boil. “Not a chance.”

“We should all go,” Eli said. “We’re all in this. And I’m the only one bigger than he is.”

“Now?” It was Carlos’s turn to be unable to sit still. He strode to the window, looking out at the twilit lawn. He realized he was drumming his fingers on the sill and snatched his hand away. “I know where he lives.” How many times had he been over there to jam, to catch a bite, to crash after some party? They’d never been close like him and Mia, but he’d been a
friend
, dammit!

“Tomorrow,” Eli said firmly. “I have an appointment with the lawyer at lunch tomorrow. Obviously, now things are different, but I want to catch him up and make sure we have all the evidence we need.”

“You know he’s going to say, ‘Don’t talk to Foster’, right? He’s going to be all lawyerly and tell us to leave the guy alone,” Nate pointed out.

“Screw that!” Carlos thumped the wall with a fist. “Not happening.”

“Don’t you hit my apartment either,” Nate said. “No, I know, we have to talk to him.”

“After the lawyer. After we file copies of the recordings and the links with him, so we’re covered,” Eli said. “You’ll give me copies, right?”

“I want to go over to Foster’s now,” Carlos muttered, acid churning in his gut. “I want to grab his skinny neck and, and—”

“Whooping cough,” Nate said. “And herpes.”

Carlos whirled to glare at him. “That was barely funny once.”

Nate raised his empty hands, looking apologetic. “Okay, sorry, trying to ease the tension.”

“Well, fail.”

Nate got up and came over. Carlos didn’t want a hug. He felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. Nate seemed to understand that, because he just leaned on the wall next to Carlos, and turned to stare hard at his brother.

Eli said irritably, “What? I agree.”

“So stop being a dickhead,” Nate said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit.” Nate continued his laser glare treatment.

Eli flushed and looked down, running a hand through his long rock-star hair.

“Chickenshit dickhead,” Nate repeated.

“Dammit!” Eli looked up finally, to meet Carlos’s eyes. “I was wrong, okay? I jumped to conclusions.”

“You were kind of pushed to conclusions,” Carlos said, bending backwards to be fair, because he really wanted to yell and pout and hit Eli. A few times.

“Well, I should’ve known better, right? I mean, I know you write great songs. No way you could have stolen all of them.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Fuck,” Nate said to his brother. “That’s the crappiest apology I’ve ever heard.”

“It came out wrong.” Eli sighed. “Can I just stick with, ‘I’m a stupid dickhead’, and be done?”

Nate singsonged, “You gotta say
sowwy!
”

“You’re a dickhead too.” Eli flushed. “Carlos, I’m sorry. I kind of sucked. Can we still be friends?”

He wanted to say no. He wanted to take his justified anger and hurt and shove that half-assed apology back in Eli’s face. It would be so damned satisfying to yell and rage and stomp out. But then this moving-up music dream they were about to actually taste would be gone too, and one wasn’t worth the other. “I guess,” he muttered.

Nate said, “You can always write really embarrassing lyrics for him to sing, right?”

Eli snarled at him, then turned back to Carlos. “You don’t think Foster’s actually dangerous, right? Like guns or knives or whatever?”

Carlos was about to say no, but the Foster he’d been friends with had been fading away for a long time. If he was honest, he didn’t know anymore who Foster was. “I don’t think so. But if he’s hanging around real drug dealers, I can’t be sure. He’s been pretty strung out lately. You can’t trust a junkie.”

There was a glum moment of silence as they all contemplated the truth of that. If you hung out in the music scene long enough, it pretty much guaranteed you’d know someone who’d burned out or ODed or given up making music to chase the chemical high. He’d just hoped that wouldn’t end up being Foster.

Nate moved closer, their arms barely brushing. It was one of Carlos’s favorite things, the way Nate would kind of touch base, giving him a little contact without being all over him. Although all over him wasn’t always bad. “Are we done?” Nate asked.

Eli said, “I get off work at six tomorrow. We could go find him after that.” He stood. “I’ll text you if the lawyer says anything useful.”

“I’m off at five,” Carlos said.

Nate made a face. “I’m supposed to work three to eleven. But this flu I have might still be too bad for me to go in.”

“There’s a nasty bug going around,” Eli agreed. “Six thirty tomorrow night then. Meet here?”

“Meet at my place,” Carlos said. “Seven. There’s no point in me driving down here and then back up.”

Eli nodded. “It’s not going to be fun, regardless.”

Carlos thought that was a pathetic understatement.

Nate said, “It’s going to suck hairy donkey balls.”

Carlos jerked a thumb at him. “What he said.”

Eli looked back and forth between them. “You two deserve each other.” He hesitated. “And I actually mean that in a good way too. I’ll see you tomorrow. Carlos? Um. Sorry? Really?”

Nate followed him to the door to lock it behind him, then leaned his back on it and looked at Carlos across the room. “And now?”

“Now I should go home. I don’t want to miss seeing Tía Lisa before she leaves.”

“You have a hour. She’s still sleeping.”

“I guess.”

“A dutiful child wouldn’t wake her up before she needs to actually get up.”

He raised one eyebrow. It did make Nate smile. “I seem dutiful to you?”

“A horny guy wouldn’t wake her up before he needs to.”

Carlos laughed. He wasn’t really horny either, though. Nate looked good in the T-shirt and shorts he’d changed into, but Carlos’s whole body jangled with nerves and tension. “I don’t know.”

“Come here.” Nate opened his arms. Carlos walked into them before he even thought about it. Nate didn’t take it further, just hugged him. “What a hell of a day, huh?”

“I second the motion.”

“Want to just lie down for a bit? I slept like crap last night, and I’d like to hang out with you for a while, but I’m dead on my feet.”

Carlos suddenly was too, fatigue settling over him like a leaden blanket. “Yeah. But I still don’t want to miss Tía Lisa.”

“We’ll set an alarm. You can nap for half an hour and still get back in time.”

“Okay.” He couldn’t resist that. Didn’t want to.

Nate led him to the bedroom, not letting go of him, and tipped them both toward the bed. Carlos lay down on his side, pulling Nate in against him. “Alarm?”

Nate pulled out his phone and fiddled with it. “Done.”

Carlos tugged him in tighter and breathed against his hair.

Nate said, “I’m glad I met Aunt Lisa. I’m really glad you have her. I mean, it still sucks about your parents. I can’t imagine that.”

“You’re lucky.” Carlos bit his lip against a momentary pain, pushing back memories he didn’t have to imagine.
Mamá sitting at the table, tears on her face, asking God what they had done to deserve this ungrateful child; Papá frustrated, confused, shaking his head angrily, demanding why Beatriz couldn’t just this once be a good girl and not make her mother cry; Papá pleading, even— as he’d never done before or since— begging to know why they had to lose their child this way, to her stubborn willfulness and sin; and himself, silent, frozen, battling the sick, shaky, desperate certainty that if he gave in, even just this once, if he tried to be the girl they could love, he’d never have the courage to be himself, ever again…
They’d never understood him, but they hadn’t been deliberately cruel. They’d tried to force him to be a good Catholic girl so he would go to Heaven. They’d wanted to save him. “They were good parents, really. At least, they meant to be. They loved all of us kids, took care of the family. Papá worked really hard to provide a decent life for us. But it’s like they have a blind spot. If I’m Carlos, not Beatriz, then the child they gave birth to is gone.”

“I used to think the worst thing they did was to send you away so young. But now I’m thinking maybe not. Maybe if they knew they couldn’t treat you right, they sent you to someone they trusted who would.”

“I like to think that.” All the nights he’d cried himself to sleep, in the dark of his room at Tío Ramón’s where no one could see, he’d told himself that his parents had wanted the best for him. Not just to get him out of their house, away from his sisters, but to find him a place he could really belong. Of course, the fact they refused to even let him visit afterward was the bitter reality. He pushed the memories away. He wasn’t that boy anymore. “Tía Lisa is the best. And you’d like Tío Ramón, once you get used to him. He growls on the outside, but he has a heart of mush underneath.”

“I look forward to it. No, I’m lying. I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Hah. You’re not afraid of anything.”

Nate was silent for a moment. Then he quietly said, “Everyone’s afraid of something. I’m afraid of being lied to.”

Carlos hugged his arm tighter across Nate’s chest. “I didn’t.”

“I know. Now. I’m scared of being used and dumped when something better comes along. Being told how great I am, right up until I’m suddenly not good enough, and I should have known it wasn’t for real.”

Carlos murmured, “Not happening. Not ever again.” He could hear the tension in Nate’s voice and wanted to smash the guys who’d made Nate feel that way. “You’re exactly right for me. It’s funny. I figured I’d never meet someone I could really be myself with. But here you are.”

“I like yourself,” Nate said. His tone lightened. “Some bits are especially excellent.”

Carlos nipped the top of his ear. “I’m being serious. I never thought I’d be a relationship guy, but I want that. With you. Like, exclusive and long-term and everything.”

“Well, since that was my sneaky plan from the moment I saw you, just call me the smart one in this relationship.”

“Was it?” He was curious. “Did you really think that?”

“Not really.” Nate lifted Carlos’s hand off his chest and brought it up to his lips, nibbling at the backs of his fingers. “I was looking at your excellent bits,” he said indistinctly. “It was totally due to your sex appeal.”

Carlos turned his hand to tweak Nate’s lip lightly. “Right.”

“Well, partly. I hadn’t gone out with anyone in a long time, and then I saw you and you totally flipped my switches. I wasn’t completely sure you were gay at first, even though my gaydar is pretty stellar, but I thought why not take a chance? I was bored, and lonely, and tired of being alone, and I thought, ‘
If he just wants me to blow him and disappear, at least it’s sex. And if he pounds me into the swamp for asking, at least I won’t be bored.
’”

Carlos shuddered and hugged him. “I’m glad you didn’t get pounded into any swamps.”

“Oh, me too. And then you turned out to be more interesting and more hot than I even realized. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Carlos raised his leg to brush his calf along Nate’s. “I hope it’s a long history.”

Nate kissed his hand, then pressed it in over his heart. “I’d like that too.”

****

Chapter 17

Nate stood behind Carlos as he paused on the landing of Foster’s building. Nate was trying to be supportive and invisible, when he actually wanted to have a blowtorch in his hand. Eli shifted restlessly from foot to foot beside him. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

Carlos looked at them blankly, then nodded and led the way down the hall. At the last door, he stopped and knocked. There was only silence in the apartment.

“It’s gonna suck if we came all this way and he’s out,” Eli muttered.

“His car’s parked on the street.” Carlos knocked again firmly. And again. This time there was a muffled thump from inside, followed by an indistinct voice. A few minutes passed and then the door opened a few inches.

Carlos slammed his palm on the door, whacking it open with a loud thump. Foster stumbled back from the doorway with a curse, and Carlos pushed his way inside. Nate scrambled to stay close behind, with Eli bringing up the rear.

Foster let go of the door and backed up. “What the fuck’re you doing?”

“You look like shit,” Carlos said roughly.

“Well, thanks.” Foster curled his lip, glancing between the three of them. “Some of us don’t have good jobs and organic food and stylists.”

“What happened to your job?”

“Which one? The one I lost for skipping out to Portland to play at the Grey Wolf?
With you?
The one I lost for showing up hung over after PunkFest? The one that fucking fired me for refusing to cut my hair?”

Carlos winced visibly. Nate wanted to remind him that he and Mia had made those same trips and played the same shows and kept their jobs, but he’d sworn he’d stay out of this and let Carlos deal with his friend. Nate was there for backup only.