“What for?” A dull ache in my chest informed me I might be on my way to losing a friend. And as always, I didn’t even know what I’d done.
“I lied to you.”
Chapter Six
Nereus
Rick’svoicewasseriousas he leaned forward, wiping his palms on his jeans. “I’m not the extra guitar the band hired.” He took my hand, and I let him pull me to my feet and lead me through the house. We stopped by the closed door in the corridor and Rick reached for the key from atop the frame “I’m part ofSwimming with the Sharks.”
My mind whirred. “What? Rick, what are you talking about?”
“I had so many reasons not to tell you and they made sense in my head all this time, but it’s bullshit. You deserve to know.”
“Rick, slow down.” I knew all the songs ofSwimming with the Sharks, and its members. Except for the one in the mask….
“I’m Shark Man,” Rick said, just as the pieces aligned in my brain.
“Oh.” I crossed my arms, then uncrossed them, shoving them in my pockets as Rick pushed the door open.
The room was littered with gold and platinum framed albums . Some on the walls, others thrown haphazardly on the floor. Awards filled the shelves, the Grammys, MTV VMA, Teen Choice… more than I could recognize. Along them, pictures ofSwimming with the Sharksposing with other famous rock bands. Shark Man wearing a mask, his body a perfect match for Rick…
“You’re Enrique Vázquez… Rick.” I couldn’t believe it, but couldn’t deny it either. I took it all in and stepped back, bumping into the doorframe with my shoulder. “You lied to me and now you’re admitting to it because I can’t help you? Or why?”
“No, that’s not it. I rarely tell anyone that I’m in the band. The sound doesn’t matter. I mean, it does, but our friendship is more important and I just couldn’t keep a secret like that any longer.”
I breathed through my nose and gills, desperately trying to inhale all the oxygen I needed to process the information. “Okay. First of all, that’s amazing. I’d be squealing right now if I wasn’t so confused—” I let out a growl of frustration. “And furious.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” I raised a finger. “I get that you’re a rockstar and didn’t want to reveal your identity. And I can’t pretend to know how it feels to be in your shoes, so I don’t fully understand it. But just…give me a moment.”
I stomped through the house, attempting to collect the thoughts and emotions bouncing inside me like rubber balls in a dryer.
The whoosh of the back door and the slam of warm air in my face woke me up from my stupor. My new friend, a guy I’d begun to trust and had so much fun with, was the same person who’d inspired me to write my own songs years ago.
I sat at the edge of the pool with its crystal-clear water, and glanced at the perfectly trimmed bushes around the expensive-looking outdoor furniture.
Someone who was a hired guitar for bands wouldn’t earn enough to afford a fancy house like that. But I’d met people born into wealth, so it hadn’t crossed my mind to analyze Rick’s villa and his potential earnings. I’d been enamored by the man himself, his chestnut locks falling over his eyes, his musical prowess, his secrecy verging on shyness. The image of Shark Man, the rockstar I had in my head, did’t match my Rick. Myfriend, Rick. Then again, sexy-as-fuck body, wicked music sense…
Could I blame him for keeping his identity a secret?
I ruffled my hair to get rid of the clusterfuck in my brain. Nope, that was of no help. I bet he had more to say, and I’d stormed out like a moody child.
Curiosity took over, and I ventured back into the house, my feet quiet on the wooden panels. Opening the door to the trophy room startled Rick, and he looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost.
“You came back.” He rushed to stand up from the floor littered with framed pictures he’d been looking at.
“I want to hear about your reasoning behind all this. It better be fucking good because lying is the one thing that pisses me the fuck off.” Thanks to all the people flirting with me for a taste of sex with tentacles only to disappear right after without a word. Or worse, run away with disgust mid-act.
“I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry. I get it.” I planted my butt on the couch next to a pillow with stitched wording ‘hottest band of the year’.
My heart ached at the look of hurt on Rick’s face. He knew he’d fucked up. But he also deserved a chance to explain. “You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know,” Rick said.
“No, you don’t. We’ve just met. But now you have my word, for all it’s worth.”
