Evanescent Ink (Copperline #4) (7 page)

“Fuck… Dude, I dunno…”

He just gave me an easy grin as he grabbed his computer bag and headed towards the door. “Trust me. We'll get you all hooked up at the Copperline tonight. What you need is a good, cleansing fuck.”

Little did he know, I’d had one, two actually, and I wasn’t sure it helped in the long-term. Raven had the incredible ability of driving Maggie from my mind the second I touched her, but the emptiness flooded back when she was gone. The rejection still festered inside me.

Even worse, tonight would be my first time on stage in years without Maggie there. She didn’t want me anymore, and she had been the one who believed in me the most.

I didn’t know if I could hack it.

“Dude, yeah, totally,” Justin was saying as I dragged myself to the bottom of the stairs to the Copperline stage that afternoon. “He looked like complete hell this morning.”

I probably
still
looked like hell. Maybe even more so. My day at Ink had been long and quiet. Neil sorta kept to himself, and Raven had the day off. I didn’t have many appointments scheduled, so I ended up doing a lot of just sitting around and thinking about shit.

Sitting around and thinking about shit sucked.

“Fucking Maggie,” Cody muttered. Even he sounded pissed, and Cody almost never lost his cool. “What a complete bitch.”

“Yeah,” Denny murmured in his thick Irish accent. His Dublin-born roots tended to become more pronounced when he was annoyed or angry about something, so his lilt was telling. “She’d shite in your parlor and charge ya for it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Justin asked. “Speak English, you fucker.”

“It means she’s a real bitch,” Felicity explained. As Denny’s wife, she was usually the first to comprehend his Irishisms, often acting as translator for the rest of us.

So they all knew, even their women.

Their women who were all pretty much the embodiment of perfection. Each one was hot as fuck in their own unique way—sweet and shy Ilsa, vibrant and outspoken Felicity, and stunningly gorgeous Sophie. Nothing would pour salt in the wound like seeing these perfect couples all happy and
couple-y
.

Even Justin, albeit not one to get tied down at all, would still be on the prowl for a hookup. He was a loyal fucker, but his loyalty kinda got put on hold when it came to getting a little. It was more of a
I-won’t-fuck-you-over
loyalty than an
I'll-always-be-here-for-you
type of thing.

I clomped up the stage steps with exaggeration, warning them of my presence. When I reached the top, the whole lot of them sorta stood there frozen, looking at me warily.

“Hey there, Drew,” Brannon hedged. Tucked up against him stood Sophie. She had the tendency to wear her emotions all over her face, and her eyes were full of compassion.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I shrugged and tried to shoot her a reassuring smile. I gathered that I didn’t pull it off, though, because she only looked more concerned as she pressed her lips together. “Really, Sophie, I’ll get over it.”

“You shouldn't feel bad about getting shot of her, you know?” Justin said.

“That's the truth,” Denny nodded. “Maggie’s a right bockedy-arsed aul' bitch.”

“You guys,” Felicity sighed, “I’m not so sure that’s helping.”

I gave her a weak, thankful smile. Their hearts were in the right place, but all the comments and reaffirmations really didn’t do shit to make me feel better. Nothing did.

Well, nothing but Raven. She had a special knack for getting me out of my head. I suddenly found myself wishing she was there with her own brand of therapy, which was silly. I hadn’t ever seen her at the Copperline before, nor did I expect to tonight. This wasn’t her typical haunt.

“What you need is fresh pussy,” Justin grinned, pulling me out of my wishful thoughts. “Fresh pussy fixes everything.”

“Oh, God, Justin,” Ilsa groaned quietly from where she sat on Cody’s lap behind his drum set. “You’re such a pig.”

“If by
‘pig’
you mean
‘awesome superstud,’
then, yeah,” he chuckled and puffed out his chest.

“Thanks, Justin,” I said with a roll of my eyes, “but I’ve had plenty of fresh pussy over the last couple years. I’m not sure more is the answer.”

“How about tried and true, then? Ruth’s here tonight, and she’s single again. I’ve already got her all lined up. You’re welcome to join in.”

Just the thought of jumping into another threesome made me queasy. With anyone.
Ever
. Aside from that, even if I had any desire to try a ménage with another dude—which I didn’t—I wasn’t sure I could try it with Justin. He was my best friend, but not
that
good of a friend.

No.
Just no.

“Yeah, nah,” I replied with a shake of my head. “I think I’ll pass. I’m not quite desperate enough to see your junk.”

“Your loss,” he shrugged with a confident laugh. “My junk is fuckin’ amazing.”

We started to play, and things seemed to go fairly well at first. A little of the melancholy lifted when I got my fingers on the frets of my guitar. Some of that nagging worthlessness faded. I was far from on fire, but could go through the motions enough to please the crowd.

I absolutely dreaded the first break, though.

On stage, I had a job to do. It occupied my mind and helped alleviate the uncertainty, but what was I supposed to do in between sets? In the last couple years, breaks had meant slipping into the bathroom with Maggie and one or two of her friends for a quick fuck up against the wall. Or body shots. Or planning the excess of the traditional after party… and the private after-
after
party in my room.

The closer we got to the end of the set, the more nauseous I felt.

“There she is,” Justin grinned again as we came down the stairs to see Ruth at the bottom. Her eyes flashed up in a blatant invitation, going back and forth between Justin and I. She was obviously game for whatever we wanted. “You sure you don’t wanna?”

“Maybe next time,” I laughed, trying to shake the desolate funk from my system. “I’m just gonna go grab a beer.”

“Okay, back in a few,” he smiled salaciously down at Ruth and smacked her on the ass as they headed out the back door, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I tried to shake off the sudden bereft feeling that filtered through me as the door slammed shut. I could do this. I could get through tonight and the next night… and the night after that.

No matter that the future felt so dark and forsaken.

We had about fifteen minutes before we were due back on stage, so I headed through the crowd to the bar, nodding at a few of the familiar faces here and there. Doug, owner and bartender of the Copperline, handed me my standard bottle of Bud. With a nod of thanks, I turned to look around…

…and I instantly wished I’d just stayed in the fucking hallway.

Right in front of me was Maggie and some chick I’d never seen before. Maggie’s hand rest on the girl’s ass, and she was whispering something that elicited a flirty giggle.

For an awkward moment, I just stared at them.

My mind was all but yelling at me.

Turn around! Get the fuck out of there!

The Mofos were practically celebrities in our little rural world, so most everyone in the bar recognized me. Clearly, a few people standing nearby obviously recognized her as half of what was formerly known as
“Drew and Maggie.”
The whispers were almost palpable, and it felt like all eyes were on me, waiting for my reaction.

Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it.

Most people in the world can be classified as
fight
or
flight
. I, unfortunately, tended to
freeze
, and that’s exactly what I did. The next thing I knew, Maggie was looking up, and I found myself staring into the cold blue eyes of my ex-girlfriend.

“Drew,” she said icily, acknowledging my presence and shaking me just a tidge from my stupor. She looked spectacular. Frosted blonde hair that fell thick and straight around her shoulders. Cherry red lips. A slip of a dress that did nothing to hide her curves, only highlighting her full breasts right down to the hardened nipples.

She was so getting off on this. On making me feel like shit.

“Maggie,” I replied with a stony expression. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Showing Phoebe around,” she replied. The girl beside her, apparently Phoebe, gave me an uncomfortable glance. Maggie must have told her about me, a notion that stirred up some mixed feelings inside me. A little pride that I had warranted a mention, but also a dreadful, queasy sensation over exactly what kind of shit could have been said.

“This is your ex?” Phoebe asked. She was cute enough in her own right. Shoulder length wavy hair, a bit of a dirty blonde, and showing about as much skin as Maggie. “The one with the apa? The one you always had threesomes with?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Maggie said with a frown. She caught the girl’s face in her hand and leaned in. “I’m not sharing you.”

She kissed her then, hard and deep. On one hand, it was kinda hot, reminding me of all those times before with Maggie and me and some random chick. One on my dick, the other on my face as they kissed with a wild abandon.

But her words cut me to the bone.

I’m not sharing you.

Maggie had
always
shared me.

Nausea boiled up in my gut. She was really serious about this one. It wasn’t just someone in passing to toy with. She felt possessive, unwilling to let anyone else have a taste. Something she’d
never
felt for me.

Another crushing blow to my ego. Another hit, square in my junk, taking me down yet another peg. Another devastating reminder that I wasn’t good enough.

I jerked away from the couple, forcing my way through the crowd towards the back door of the bar. Pushing past the guys and chicks alike that gawked at the girl-on-girl display right before their eyes.

The bite of cold air hit my lungs when I stepped outside and paced around the side of the building. Into the shadows around the corner where others rarely ventured. My mind raced to push that image, the sound of her voice, from my thoughts. I ended up punching the wall, cursing as splinters from the rough wood dug into my knuckles.

It was enough, though. The throbbing pain in my hand released some of the pent up frustration and jealousy in my chest. I whirled around, leaning up against the building, then slid down the wall to sit on the cold ground.

That’s how Raven found me.

I hadn’t even realized she was at the Copperline. Yet here she was, standing before me.

In the chill of this late fall night, she had to be cold as fuck wearing a flirty little skirt and above-the-knee socks. She had a jacket, too, but it wasn’t fastened, nor did it look exceedingly warm. The top she had under it would be considered skimpy at best. I could almost see the goosebumps rising on her bare stomach, even in the low light. Technically, she was sort of wearing fingerless gloves, but they appeared to be more fashion than function.

She had to be freezing her ass off. I was cold as hell, and I had my burning anger to warm me.

After a long look, she spoke. “I could probably take her if you want.”

“Who?” My brain felt a little foggy, so I didn’t really get what she was saying.

“Maggie… and maybe her little girl toy, too. I’m not all big and muscly, but I’m a scrappy fucker.”

I leaned my head against the wall, allowing her unique calming presence to seep into my pores. It felt as though her cool and tough bravado could extinguish the rage inside me, guiding me to peace with a Zen-like promise.

“No,” I replied finally, “she’s just being a cunt. She apparently likes rubbing this shit in my face.”

“She shouldn’t even fucking be here,” she huffed with a long, frustrated sigh before she looked back down at me. “Drew, I don’t want her to do this to you. I don’t want her to see you crumble. So what do you need in order to go back out there and play like she doesn’t mean shit?”