The jagged edges of the last twenty-four hours jostled Keys’ brain at band practice. He barely tracked the notes he was supposed to play, as his fingers struggled across his keyboard. Surrounded by his bandmates in the soundproof studio at Dante’s penthouse apartment, working on some new material—all Dante’s, of course—he simply couldn’t focus.
Some jackass broke into Mia’s apartment. She’s probably a train wreck inside. And our fight this morning didn’t help things either. Why can’t I just admit how I feel and make Mia my girlfriend? I should be able to get over what happened with Sarah and move on, right?
His fingers flubbed the next set of chords, and the rest of the band groaned.
Gia threw her drumsticks across the room. They skittered across the black vinyl flooring and clattered to a stop against the studio foam covered wall.
Trevor strummed a loud, discordant riff on his bass.
Dante dropped the microphone, resulting in a loud screech. His hands curled into clubs. “Fuck, Keys, would you just play the fucking song?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Keys said. “My mind was elsewhere. I’ll get it right this time.”
“You said that an hour ago,” Dante said. “I’m so tired of your shit. Why don’t you tell us what’s going on? Are you making plans behind our back?”
The words moved in a slow-motion arc in Keys’ direction. He blinked as if a grenade had been tossed in his direction. When the words landed in his chest, he freaked out. What do they know? How could they know? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would you say such a thing?” he said, his defensiveness on the rise.
“Well, you’re lying about something,” Gia said, rising from her drum kit seat.
“Who says?” Keys said.
“I say, that’s who. We all practically live together. Think we can’t tell when one of us is lying?” Gia stalked over to the counter against the wall, which held half-full and empty beer bottles, a joint, and a couple of bottles of water. She snagged a water bottle, wrenched off the cap, and tipped back her head and glugged.
“I have to agree with her,” Trevor said.
“Yeah, well fuck you,” Keys said, hotly.
“No, fuck you,” Trevor said, resting his bass in its stand. His eyes burned with anger.
“Fuck all of you. Practice is over. I’m done with all this bullshit,” Dante declared. He reached down to retrieve the microphone and put it in the mic stand. “Get it together, Johnson.”
“Or what?” Keys said, bolting to his feet.
“Or I don’t know. Just fucking get it together.” Dante stalked toward Keys and seized the front of his shirt.
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Keys yelled, shoving Dante backward.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Gia said, sliding into the role of the peacemaker. She forced her way between them. “Cool it, you guys. Let’s just call it a day and reconvene tomorrow.”
Dante threw up his hands. “Fine. Fucking fine. Will that work for you, Keys?”
“I said, I’m sorry,” Keys said, his belly in a twist. He hated letting the band down, but what could he do? His soul was screaming to play new music. He wanted out.
“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t cut it this time,” Dante said. He stormed out of the studio.
“Dante, wait. Don’t be mad,” Gia called as she raced after him.
“I guess that leaves you and me,” Trevor said. He looked at Keys with this pathetic pound dog expression that made Keys want to puke.
“I’ve got to go pick up Mia,” Keys said, sliding his mobile phone out of his pocket. It’s three o’clock. I’ll head home and pick up some clothes, then head to her house to drop them off before I skedaddle to her office to see her home.
“Mia.” Trevor spat out the word like a poison seed.
“Yes, Mia. What’s it to you?” Keys’ regret at fucking up band practice turned into anger.
“Let’s go out and look for some chicks to bang instead. What do you say?” Trevor sidled toward Keys like a cloying girl.
Keys’ lip pulled back in a sneer. “Nope. You’re on your own. I said I’ve got to go pick up Mia. She’s expecting me.”
“What is it with that bitch?” Trevor said.
“First of all, she’s not a bitch. Don’t you ever call her that again, capeesh?” Keys snagged his coat from the black padded chair in the corner where he’d thrown it when he arrived.
“Why the hell shouldn’t I?” Trevor said. “You’re doing it again, Keys. It’s like I said. You’re letting a chick come between us.”
Keys shook his head. “Mia was assaulted last night. She was assaulted,” he said again, enunciating each syllable. “In her own home.” He thought sharing that with Trevor would make him back down.
“So, pay for a security detail to watch her. I need to get laid. I haven’t been getting any since the last time we went out weeks ago. Are you in a good mood when you’re not getting laid, huh? Wait, how would you know? You’ve got a little sidepiece to play with. While I’ve got nothing.” Trevor poked Keys’ chest with his strong forefinger.
“Shit, man, that hurts,” Keys said, shoving Trevor’s hand away. “And it’s not my problem.” He stared at Trevor with slack-jawed disbelief. “Are you telling me you’re more interested in getting some than the fact that a friend of ours got assaulted last night and nearly raped?”
“You don’t get it.” Trevor threw back his head.
“What don’t I get?” Keys said, shrugging into his bomber jacket.
“I’m losing my best friend to some chick, the same way I lost you to Sarah.”
“Leave Sarah out of this,” Keys said, pushing past Trevor to get to the door.
Trevor seized the back of Keys’ jacket, whirling him around. “I’m sick of being left out. You just cut me out of your life like I’m nothing. I thought we were best friends.”
“Let. Me. Go,” Keys said in a low growl. He eyed Trevor as if seeing him for the first time. Mia’s right. The dude’s in love with me. That’s why he can’t have sex without me. It’s me who turns him on. “Trevor,” he said, ready to confront him on his closeted gayness.
“Whatever you’re going to say to me, I don’t want to hear it. I’m done being your little on-again, off-again bitch.” Trevor stormed out of the studio, leaving Keys with more messes than he knew how to deal with.
Keys’ life was officially screwed.