GRIT (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 2) (9 page)

“W
hat?!” Silver looked
at Zenith as if he were crazy, and perhaps he was. There he stood, his leather jacket on, a dark violet hoodie beneath that, and an inexplicable madness in his coal black eyes.

“Come on, just throw some shit in a duffle bag and let’s go.” The man pushed past her, making himself at home.

“Zenith, I have to go to work!” She stomped her foot, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be moved by her actions. “They want to see
you
, not me. They already paid for your plane ticket and hotel and you’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” She pushed on his shoulder, trying to move the man, but he simply wouldn’t budge.

“You got twenty minutes to throw some clothes on, call in sick, and come to the airport with me. If the airline is sold out of seats, I’ll buy you a ticket for the next plane out, but you
have
to come with me.”

“When you initially asked me this, I told you no. I said this is your moment and you don’t need any distractions. I feel the same exact way now.” She crossed her arms defiantly, sure she’d made her position, intentions, and point crystal clear now.

I’m not going to have him spoil this for himself!

“Besides, I was planning to help check in on your grandfather,” she added for good measure.

The bastard glared at her as if pure crap was rolling out of her mouth.

“That’s unnecessary. Denise and I already have it covered.” He marched down her hall like he owned the place and swung her bedroom door open so hard, it hit the wall.

“What are you doing?” She chased after him in her socks. “Nuh uh, Zenith!”

There he stood inside her closet. Grunting, he reached for her luggage and moved the damn thing down from the top shelf, then slammed it onto the bed. Tugging on the zippers, he flipped it open and turned to her dresser drawers, removing nightgowns, bras, and the sort.

“Get out of my stuff!” She laughed in horror.

“Well, help me pack you up then.” He smiled and stood back, giving her room. On a sigh, she picked out a folded t-shirt, and then another. Grinning, he lay across her bed and crossed his hands behind his head. “You want me to call in for you?”

“No, I’ll do it.” She stopped her packing and reached for her cell phone.

“It’s the voicemail…” she whispered. “Hi Simone, it’s Silver. Uh, something has come up today that I need to take care of. You know I rarely take off so…” She gave him a fleeting glance and frowned, annoyed by his smug expression. “This may come as a surprise, but I need today off. Something unavoidable has come up. If anyone needs me, please feel free to call later on today. I’ll be back on Monday. Have a great weekend.” She took a deep breath, then pulled her closet door further open, surveyed the clothing and made some quick assessments.

“Bring one nice outfit. If they like me, they might ask me to come to dinner or something.” She nodded and plucked a black suit jacket and matching pants that she rarely wore from the back of the cubbyhole. It was a rarity for her to dress up; she only owned one light, colorful maxi dress that she’d worn to her cousin’s wedding, and this suit had served its time, too. It was the same one she’d interviewed in over four years earlier.

“I guess I need to go shopping.” She sighed, not realizing until then how uncaring she’d been about her attire.

“I like you just the way you are…” She couldn’t help but smile at his words as she placed the outfit neatly in the dark brown luggage. “Alright, just let me take a quick shower, throw on a jogging suit, and brush my teeth and hair, then we’ll be ready to roll.”

He glanced at his cell phone, undoubtedly checking the time. “Cool,” he said, then called out, “Can I turn on some music while I wait, baby?”

“Yeah!” She entered the bathroom and turned the shower on, letting it heat up as she slid her robe and beige nightgown off.

The notes of “My First Love” by Avant ft. Keke Wyatt drifted through.

“Oh shit… that was my jam back in the day!” she hollered out with a smile, snapping her fingers.

“It was mine, too…” came a husky, deep voice behind her.

“Damn it!” She busted out laughing and playfully slapped his bare chest. “You scared me.” The man was butt naked, with a raging hard on that was covered with a condom… and ready to pounce.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He nestled his lips in the crevice of her neck and delivered a sweet kiss. “Let me get in here with you.”

“We don’t have much time, Zenith.”

“I know… so stop talking and get in there so I can fuck you fast and hard against the shower wall.” He snatched the shower curtain open, causing the vinyl to stretch and scream, stepped inside and stood under the jets. With a smooth sleight of hand, he relocated his long, wet tresses out of his face, then reached for her, helping her inside. With a wily, crooked grin, he wrapped his arms around her waist, picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and held her against the wall, just as he’d promised… He laid another gentle kiss against her collarbone and the hollow of her neck, drawing a sigh from her.

She held on tight to his back, her legs wrapped securely around the small of his waist as he entered her.

“Long as I live… you will be my… my
last
love…” he sang to the music, changing the words to fit his image of her, just so… just perfect… just right…

Some things are
unimaginable. And this was one of them.

Leigh Kakaty and the other band members sat in the baroque studio, the walls rich, pitch-black, and trimmed with blood red paint. The men in that room were so laid back about the shit, it almost seemed surreal… Zenith felt as if he were sitting in the lap of madness, mayhem, and majestic company, all at once. The room smelled of marijuana, cigarettes, beer, and body funk. Leigh though was sober, had turned a new leaf based on a report he’d read. He surmised his look would be attributed to the after-glow of a crazy party the previous night.

“Zenith, you can play whatever you want… let’s just hear something,” the lead singer stated as he crossed his legs and leaned casually back in his leather seat. Despite the temperature being only fifteen degrees outside, a flush of heat came over him as he fell into his zone, preparing to ‘go there’. A foot of snow covered the ground outside, and it kept falling as they spoke. He thought about all he’d done to get there, and everything that was at stake…

Though he couldn’t see her, he knew Silver was watching. She insisted on not being directly in the studio. She waited right outside the glass, seeing everything. How happy he was she’d managed to get a seat on standby, and they’d convinced another couple to allow them to sit together on the plane. They didn’t say much during the flight. In fact, they simply snuggled close and daydreamed… loved… and lived. He couldn’t settle on what song to play, should they ask him to choose his own, so, she’d given him a suggestion, and he loved it…

“Alright.” He took the drumsticks in his hands, ran his fingers up and down the things. He’d brought his own, the ones Paw had made for him when he was just a boy. They glistened like dark jewels under the spinning red and purple lights, ready for action as they warmed to his anxious touch.

“I’m going to do ‘Pain Killer’, by Judas Priest.”

“Wow! That’s a big fucking undertaking. Hey.” Leigh snapped his fingers at two of the guys. “Matt and Dave, get on this with him and work this shit out.” The guitarists got to their feet, cursing and grumbling, causing Zenith to fold away a budding smirk.

Different guys… same shit.

Dave got set up then nodded a few times, cueing he was ready. A moment or two later, Matt did the same.

“Start whenever you’re ready,” Leigh announced, sitting back in his seat. He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes only half open.

Zenith looked at his headset, then thought better of it.

Nope, I’m just going to fly through this with no protection. Pain Killer is an ear splitter, but it is what it is…

He admired the drum kit in front of him with her shiny blue and silver curves, then he hit her… and hit her again until he’d taken off in full flight. He beat the living daylights out of her, to the point his arms were sore and throbbing half way through the damn song. He hadn’t had time to warm up; tendonitis would surely set in if he weren’t careful, but he had to give it his all, and this was a workout in itself.

He kept on, his face tight with angst and love as he disappeared within himself. Matt and Dave played the riffs perfectly, right along with him, as if they’d been practicing the shit for weeks. He was in the midst of pros… playtime was over. These guys were in the big leagues, and even when they’d been drunk off their asses, they played most people into the goddamn ground…

He couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, but Leigh was vigorously bobbing his head, dark brown waves of hair swinging to and fro. Several guys he didn’t know observed intensely, commenting to each other every now and again. Steve, the manager, whispered a couple of times then walked out with his phone in hand. As the song came to a close, sweat poured down his face and a satisfied grin creased his mouth. He wasn’t sure how well he played by their standards, but he was proud of himself nevertheless. Dave set his guitar down and threw him a look over his shoulder. Shaking his head, he stumbled back over to his seat.

Matt placed his guitar gently against the wall, began to walk away, and then paused. “How old are you, man?” he asked, and sighed.

“Thirty.” The guy sucked his teeth, shook his head, and walked away.

Leigh took a deep breath, and soon Steve re-entered the room.

“Look, we’ve heard a lot of drummers over the years.” He grimaced, as if the mere memory caused him pain like tooth decay. “Steve said he saw this guy one night in Syracuse, New York, tearing the club up with some drum solo for the song, “Hot For Teacher”, by Van Halen. That was almost a year ago…

“He’s been watching different guys, man, narrowed it down, but kept coming back to you.” He pointed at him. “You’re fuckin’ good, man. Shit! I’m impressed… and you’ve had no formal training?” he said seriously.

“None. My grandfather taught me the basics. The rest is self-taught.”

“There was a quick moment there when you were trying to get your bearings, I think. I was a little worried but you straightened right up. You actually exceeded my expectations.”

“I was a little nervous. I’m cool now.”

Leigh nodded in understanding. “Good. Because here’s the deal.” He paused, his expression thoughtful, swiveling in his chair slow and easy, as if deciding his next move. “If we can come to some sort of agreement, we want you, Zenith. I don’t even need to talk to these guys.” He hitched his thumb in his bandmates’ direction. “I know them. I looked at them while you played and after it was over, we all realized you’ve got something incredible…and to never have gotten guidance from a formally trained instructor…just wow. Anyway, we are all on one accord with this. I could tell by their reaction they thought you were dope.”

“Thank you so much, man. You have no idea how much I appreciate that.” He couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright.” He ran his hand down his face and looked up at the ceiling in deliberation. “We have some shit going on right now, but what I want to do is for you to get back with us in about a month… A month right, Steve?” he called out.