“Not funny,” I informed him.
He laughed. “I thought it was hilarious. Now go record your song so you can come home.”
“I could just ditch the song and come home now.”
“No, you can’t,” he said softly. “The Jordi I know and love is a fighter, who never let anyone or anything stand between her and her dreams. If you come home now, you’re going to give up a big part of what makes you who you are. And you know that deep down.”
He was right. If I went home now, I’d resent forever that missed opportunity. I’d blame Griffin and his behavior, but it was really me and my feelings.
“You can’t change Griffin or anyone else,” Jace continued. “You can only change how you react to them.” I nodded but didn’t say anything. “Just take the day to think about it. Don’t make any decision this big based on something as fleeting as emotion. Do something fun, take your mind off of it. Then tackle it tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to sleep on it.”
He was so level-headed and logical. If I could channel half of that, I’d be set. So I decided to take his advice and do something to take my mind off of Griffin and all the manufactured drama from
the Internet. As it so happened, Diego had a gig that night, a sort of “battle of the bands” held by a local radio station. They were auditioning for opening acts for a music festival they were hosting the following weekend, so it was a bigger venue and much bigger audience than they were used to playing. Both Diego’s social media and the handle for his band encouraged all their fans to show up and show some love, given the winning act would be decided by the audience.
With that, my night was set. I called upon the Vegas Tempestuous to deliver an outfit
suitable for the metal mania of the evening. In fact, I went even more Goth than I normally dared. The concierge located a magenta wig with a bobbed haircut, along with glasses to further disguise my identity.
I felt like an entirely new person as I headed to the outdoor venue where the bands were set to perform. I could get lost in the crowd and no one would even know I was there at all. As far as Diego was concerned, this was probably best. He had avoided me like the plague ever since I got to Vegas.
The only way I could spend any time with him at all, getting to know him, learning his interests, being a part of his life, was as a faceless member of a blurry, dark audience just beyond the bright lights of the stage.
As
it so happened, that approach worked really well for me this particular evening.
I blended in with the enthusiastic crowd, allowing myself to be part of the audience. No one even looked twice at me as I squeezed myself in between the sweaty, dancing bodies, inching closer to the stage. Catastrophe Rising was billed to perform toward the end of the evening, giving me plenty of time to relax and people watch in the meantime. I sipped from my bottle of water as I glanced out over the crowd, studying how they responded to the music.
I felt at home among the alternative crowd. People came in all shapes and sizes, with all sorts of colors of hair and any variety of piercings and tattoos. They didn’t give a shit about judging anyone around them. They were perfectly comfortable in their skin and had no reason to hate anyone else for being “different.” Differences in this crowd were celebrated and honored, as evidenced by the bands on stage.
One of the standout performers for me was an all-female band called Unapologetic B!tches. There were five members, representing five races. The lead singer was biracial, with a tight curly afro, and eyes so green I could see them from where I sat. Though she weighed as much as I did, she wore a short plaid skirt with torn fishnet stockings and combat boots. Though I hadn’t been in public without a bra of some sort since I was ten, th
is lead singer – who introduced herself as Kamaria – had no problem wearing a tank top with no bra. She sang about sex and she sang about power, and not one person in the audience dared to question her. Men whistled and hollered as she flirted shamelessly with the crowd.
Even more impressive was the musicianship of the band.
The songs were solid. The lead guitarist, a beautiful blonde who wore leather tip to toe, shredded like a legend in the making. The lyrics were intelligent and relevant, which made me want to hear more. And Kamaria’s voice was so powerful it blew me right out of the water.
After they finished performing, I worked my way toward their booth to check out more of their music. Just as I reached for the last CD, it was snatched up by another fan whose tattooed
fingers immediately gave him away. My mouth nearly hit the floor as I turned to face Griffin Slade, whose hat and glasses couldn’t conceal his identity up close.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered as I turned to leave. He caught my arm with his hand.
“Hey, don’t go. Here,” he said as he offered me the last CD.
I glared at him as I took the CD. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a song to record.”
“I do,” he said with a smirk I assumed worked on all the girls who didn’t know what a raging asshole he could be. “But my singer bailed so I thought I’d come out and support a friend of mine.”
I looked down at the cover, my eyes landing on the blonde guitarist. “Of course.”
“They’re something, huh?” he asked.
“Very talented,” I concurred.
“I can introduce you. Come on,” he said as he reached for my arm.
“Maybe another time. I’m here to see someone, too,” I informed him coldly.
He nodded. “Catastrophe Rising, I’d suspect.”
My eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
He chuckled. “That’s one of two people you follow in Vegas, according to your Twitter. The other is the guitarist, Diego Palermo. Given you’ve already been caught by the press at one of their shows, it’s not that difficult to put together.”
“For a stalker,” I spat as I turned to stalk off, but he was right behind me.
“I like to know who I’m working with,” he informed me as he matched me stride for stride back into the crowd. “Kind of like how you seem to know who I’m dating or seeing at any given time.”
“I knew about Bryn because Emma told me,” I snapped. “As if I owe you an explanation, which I don’t.”
“Hey, I don’t care if you know. I don’t care if anyone knows. I’m an open book.”
I swiveled back to face him. “You’re an open book in another language!”
His eyes never left mine. “Ditto, love.”
I growled in frustration. “Stop calling me that. You don’t mean it, so stop saying it.”
“I mean everything I say,” he corrected. “It’s a term of endearment for a friend. I’d like us to be friends. We could be friends if you didn’t keep running away.”
“Me?” I squeaked. “You’re the one who keeps putting up walls.”
He leaned closer and touched the tip of my nose with his fingertip. “Wrong again, love. I just refuse to scale yours.”
I swatted his hand away. “You’re infuriating!”
“And you, darlin’, are the biggest pain in my ass.”
“Then why do you keep coming back?” I asked. “Why do you insist we work together, or drag out our time together when you act like you can’t get away from me fast enough?”
He let the question hang there before he said softly, “Why, indeed?”
I spun away from him and merged with the wave of people milling toward the stage. I tried to get into the next two acts, but it was impossible. I kept scanning the crowd to see where Griffin was in a fervent prayer that he wouldn’t find his way to me through the throng of people in between us.
I finally spotted him at the other side of the stage right as Catastrophe Rising was setting up their gear. He didn’t watch them. Instead he watched me. I ignored him purposefully while keeping him right in my peripheral vision. If he even moved one inch my direction, I was ready to bolt.
Catastrophe Rising’s set was killer, with a blend of covers and original music. Eventually I noticed that Griffin stopped watching me to watch the band, especially Diego. He was impressed by Diego’s skill, it was written all over his face. I couldn’t help but wonder if his opinion would have changed knowing that Diego was my brother.
“
You’re the biggest pain in my ass
,” I kept hear him repeat over and over again in my head. “
Probably because I’m the only one willing to call him on his shit
,” I finally decided. He already said he couldn’t figure me out. Maybe he didn’t know what to make of the one female on the planet he couldn’t land into bed, even if he had wanted to, which he so clearly didn’t. This was fine by me. I didn’t care to be a notch on anyone’s bed post, much less someone who wasn’t fit to shine Jace’s shoes. Jace actually valued women beyond what he could get out of them.
Griffin Slade was clearly incapable of that.
No doubt he was at this concert because of the hot guitarist of Unapologetic B!tches. Maybe he hadn’t screwed her yet and was still gunning to get into her pants.
Or maybe they had screwed, and she was going to slip into the warm spot recently vacated by Bryn.
Either way, he was clearly incapable of showing up anywhere if there wasn’t something in it for the little Griffin in his pants.
Once Catastrophe Rising had finished, I was ready to get the hell out of there. As I broke free from the crowd, I spotted Kamaria at one of the food trucks parked just outside. I dug out the CD I had and approached her to have her sign it. Before I could reach her, she squealed as she raced toward someone else in the audience. I stopped cold as she ran right into the arms of none other than Griffin Slade.
He spotted me and waved me over. My feet followed before my brain could intervene. As soon as I got close, Griffin bent to tell her who I was. Her eyes widened as she opened her arms and pulled me into a powerful hug. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Jordi Hemphill has come to see me? I’m honored.”
I shrugged off the praise. In my head she was way more talented than I could ever be. She was certainly more confident. I envied her as much as I was attracted to her.
“She came to see Catastrophe Rising,” he informed her.
“Oh, man, they really killed it. Our biggest competition, I think. I hope I’m not fraternizing with the enemy,” she joked as she gave me a playful side-eye glare.
I shook my head. “I actually don’t know them that well. Friend of a friend.”
“Is that any way to talk about your baby brother?” someone asked from behind. It was Diego.
Of course.
Griffin’s eyebrow arched. “Brother?”
I was smug as I turned to him. “I guess there are some things you can’t learn from Twitter.”
His eyes traveled between Diego and me as he conceded, “I guess not.”
“Talent definitely runs in the family,” Kamaria said. “You know, now that you brought it up, I can definitely see the resemblance.”
Passersby started to congregate around us as they recognized both Kamaria and Diego. She indulged a few before she suggested we head on out before we attracted a crowd.
I jumped on the suggestion, not needing any more press than necessary during my stay in Vegas… especially any press that included Griffin. Surprisingly Diego didn’t raise any objections as he trailed along, following us out to my car so we could find a restaurant for a late dinner.
We found a secluded
Japanese restaurant off the Strip, which accommodated us with a private booth. Kamaria and Griffin celebrated the success of the evening with hot sake, while I stayed quiet thanks to mouthfuls of edamame. Diego, on the other hand, was more animated than I had ever seen him. He and Griffin bonded over guitars, with a conversation so technical in nature I nearly needed subtitles to know what the hell they were talking about.
I wanted to ask Kamaria where her endless confidence came from
, considering we were both in an industry bound to beat it out of anyone it didn’t deem worthy. However I was struck silent by the way Griffin hung onto her. Though they sat close, he cuddled her even closer. He even stole kisses and fed her bites of sushi as it was delivered to the table.
Likewise she flirted with him. Their interaction was so intimate that it was quite evident they had a history. Yet it didn’t fit into anything I already knew about Griffin.
I didn’t know what to make of any of it.
By the time we parted ways, Diego and Griffin were fast friends. They exchanged contact informati
on, as did Kamaria and I. Yet, with as much information as we shared over dinner, I didn’t feel any closer to any of them, especially the boys. Everything I thought I knew had unraveled in an evening. I didn’t know what the hell to make of Griffin’s making time with a girl who looked more like me than like Bryn, or even Emma. I was struck dumb as I dropped them off at her apartment, and he chased her up the stairs until they disappeared, giggling, behind her door.
Diego rolled down the window so he could light up a cigarette. I turned to him. “I guess I’ll get you home,” I said as I put the car into gear.
“Fuck that,” he said as he flicked some ash outside. “Take me to the Y.”
I sighed. “If this is because I pay for the apartment…”
“It’s not,” he answered curtly. “It’s not my home if Mama is not there,” he finally answered.