Jordan's brow furrowed in confusion. The protective side of me wanted to lash out, asking Eli why he didn't help whoever it was himself, but I kept my mouth shut. Jordan was happy here. I wasn't going to do anything to cause him stress, and if the three of them were in it for the long haul, then I wanted to try to repair Eli's view of me.
“Yeah, sure…” His voice trailed off as if he’d been about to say something else. He cocked his head to the side and smiled at Eli. I held my breath, waiting for Jordan to stand up to him, but he never did. He simply walked away, leaving me alone with one of his partners.
I braced myself, waiting for Eli's lecture. It had to be coming. What other reason was there for him to dismiss Jordan, other than wanting a minute alone with me to warn me what he’d do if I upset Jordan.
“Look, I know you don't like me,” I said before he could get a word in. “And I know I've earned part of that reputation, but you don't know anything about me other than what you’ve seen.”
Eli held up his hands in surrender.
“You are absolutely right about that,” he agreed. “I’m not going to give you any sort of lecture or tell you that I think Jordan would be better off if you didn't come around, because that's not true. I actually came over here for the exact opposite.”
Now I was the one who was confused. I pressed my lips together to keep from making an even bigger ass of myself.
“I wanted to thank you for coming tonight,” Eli explained. “Jordan has been worried about you. He said something about the band that you used to play with breaking up?”
“It happens.” I shrugged. “Being in the club business, I'm sure you've seen other bands decide it was time to give up on their dreams and get real jobs.”
“It's a damn shame,” Eli remarked, and my eyes grew wide. Had Eli actually just given me a compliment? I thought he had. “It's never easy to let go of something you want. And, even though it's not exactly my type of music, I can admit that you have a hell of a lot of talent. Have you ever thought about going solo?”
“I'm not sure how well that would work,” I admitted. What I didn't say was that I needed the guys behind me to support me when I was so fucking scared, I wasn't sure I could take those first steps onto the stage. Slade was a persona—a mask. To everyone who saw us play, I was this cocky, confident, talented singer who could pack any bar in the district. None of them understood how hard it was for me to silence my father's objections. Every single fucking time. It was only once the music began that I was able to close my eyes and feel the beat, hear the melody, and turn off everything other than the set.
“Just think about it,” Eli encouraged me. “If you want to give it a go, come talk to me. I’ll pencil you in whenever you want. If you're worried about how it will go, we can set you up on one of the slower nights when the crowd isn't as rowdy or vocal.”
“Yeah. Okay. I'll think about it,” I promised him. Unfortunately, I would do more than just think about it. I would obsess about it—tell myself all the reasons it was the worst idea ever and convince myself I was nothing without a band playing behind me. I held out my hand, which Eli shook firmly. “Thank you, Eli. It means a lot to know that you have faith in me. I don't want to make any rash decisions though.”
“I can respect that. Now, here comes Jordan. If you don't mind, do you think it would be possible for you to keep this between the two of us?” His cheeks flushed and he looked… Embarrassed? He glanced past me again. “Jordan's worried about you, Slade. If it was up to him, I would have come over here and insisted that you take a job at the club. I refused to do that because I'm pretty sure that's not what you want. You strike me as fiercely independent; the type of man who needs to know that he can make it on his own.”
“I am,” I responded, shocked that Eli had picked up so much about me. “And please don't think I don't appreciate the offer. I absolutely do. It's just… Everything's changed, and sometimes I wake up feeling like the world is this vicious cyclone, spinning everything around and I don't know which way is up. I’m going to take some time, maybe play around a little, and figure out if I am even any good on my own.”
“You are,” Jordan interrupted. He draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug and kissing my temple. Such a simple display of affection he didn't understand affected me so deeply. “Maybe this is a good thing.”
My fucking bank account said otherwise. I didn't want to be on the receiving end of a silver linings lecture. Jordan pressed his palms to my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “I mean it, Slade. You used to be so damn confident. Back when we were kids, there was nothing stopping you from getting up and commanding the entire room’s attention. What happened to that guy?”
My dad happened.
Every time he told me that music was a dead-end road, another chip of my dream broke off. I simply shrugged, not wanting to reveal that level of vulnerability to Eli. “Listen, I don't have to go in tomorrow night. Why don't I come over and you can play around for me? It'll be just like old times.”
Yeah, exactly like old times. Me singing to Jordan, him thinking I was just screwing around when every note and lyric conveyed a message to him that I couldn’t put into words.
Somebody mentioned free booze. I needed to find that. Stat.
“I’m going to get myself a drink,” I told him. “Can you point me in the right direction?”
Instead, Jordan pointed to the kitchen counter. “Not until you eat.”
Drinking on an empty stomach sounded like a damn good plan to me. That way, the first drink would leave me tipsy and fuzzy enough it wouldn't bother me that there so many happy couples around the apartment. But Jordan was looking out for me when I was too reckless to take care of myself. Without another word, he began piling appetizers I couldn't even begin to name onto a plate.
“That's way too much food,” I protested. With as little as I'd been eating lately, I would be sick to my stomach if I cleaned my plate.
“Are you kidding me? I've seen you pile three times as much on a plate, scarf it down, and then head back for more.” It was true. Before everything came crashing to the ground, Jordan, and pretty much everyone else we knew, gave me a hard time for, what they called, my hollow leg. I had a never-ending appetite, at least partly caused by my inability to stop moving anytime I was awake. Now, I barely left my bed or the couch, and I was down to eating one meal most days. Some days, I couldn't be bothered to eat at all.
“Yeah, well, stress tends to do that to a person.”
There was a grunt of disapproval behind me. I whipped around and found my face less than an inch away from the expensive silk tie resting on the chest of the stranger from the stairwell. I focused on the small diamond pattern, resisting the urge to reach out and feel the material to see if it was as soft as it looked. My libido nudged its way to the front of my mind, imagining that silk wrapped around my wrists, restraining me, keeping me from doing anything other than what this man demanded of me.
“Something funny?” I spat out. The part of me that wasn’t disgruntled because it had been too long since I’d gotten off with anyone else, remembered we didn’t like this guy. He was everything I steered clear of.
The stranger reached up, brushing the hair away from my face. I should have pulled it back into a ponytail, but I couldn't be bothered. “Just trying to figure out what has a pretty boy like you so worked up he can't eat,” he replied.
