I clawed my hand through my hair. We were standing a few feet apart. Other than fucking her a few minutes ago, it was the closest I’d been to her in days and it was still way too fucking far. I just wanted to hold her. Grab her and throw her down and squeeze all the fucking bullshit right out of her. Shake it out. Kiss it out and suck it out and fuck itout.
But that had never workedbefore.
“So that’s it? We’re doomed to failure? That’s all you wannasee?”
“I want you not to tell anyone. So that means you won’t tellanyone.”
We stared at each other for a longminute.
Then I turned away. I looked at the door, and I thought about just walking straight out. For the first time in my life I actually had the urge to walk out onMaggie.
But I turned back toher.
“And then what? I get you six times a year, when I manage to get youalone?”
“No, Zane.” Her gray eyes held mine, tight and cool; I could practically see the wall going up between us. “Even if we fuck six times a year, you don’t get me atall.”
I just stared at her. Couldn’t really believe she’d fucking saidthat.
But shedid.
I did up my jeans. Slowly, so she had time to stop me if she wantedto.
She didn’t. Unfortunately for me and my aching dick, didn’t seem like there was any chance in hell we were gonna finish thatfuck.
So I grabbed my leather jacket and some weed, and I went for the door. “For the record,” I said as I opened it, “I am not always fucking someone.” Then I paused, half-in and half-out, and looked at her again, totally fucking pissed that it always had to end like this. That one of us was always walkingout.
Actually,shewas always walking out. That was the bullshitpattern.
We fucked. We fought. Maggie got pissed. Maggie walkedout.
This time, it was finally my turn. Because I’d never been so pissed off at her in mylife.
“And if all I get is six times a year,” I told her as I left, “maybe I’d rather have nothing atall.”
Chapter Nine
Maggie
It wasthe night of our very last show in L.A.. Though it was a Wet Blanket show, every member of Dirty except Elle had joined the band onstage for at least one song. The whole night was incredible, probably the best Wet Blanket show I’d ever beento.
Not just because of the sheer number of rock stars who took the stage, but because Zane was in such incredibleform.
It was arguably his best performance of the tour sofar.
The show was at Dylan’s nightclub, and though the band had long ago come offstage, the bar had closed and most everyone had been cleared out, the bands were still hanging out, drinking. We were all crowded into the VIP lounge upstairs; Dirty, Steel Trap, and the members of Wet Blanket, along with wives and girlfriends and otherfriends.
Even Paulie was here; one of Wet Blanket’s long-standing guitarists, Paulie had nearly joined Dirty before Seth came back, but had to drop out when his wife was diagnosed with cancer. She was now in a long remission, Paulie had come out for the show, and everyone was in greatspirits.
Exceptme.
Tomorrow, Dirty had a sort-of day off with some light promo, just some phone interviews. The day after that, we headed down to San Diego for one show there. Then we were done in California. We’d say goodbye to Brody, Ash, Roni and the Wet Blanket guys, as well as my good friend Jessa Mayes, who’d flown down for the L.A. shows to hang with us and see her man,Brody.
Then Dirty and Steel Trap would continue theHell & Backtour, heading onward to Arizona andNevada.
And I had this weird feeling things were going to change for the worse once we left the west coast. Maybe it was getting farther and farther from home. Or saying goodbye to Brody and Jessa, even though Brody would be backsoon.
But I felt a deep unease and sadness about itall.
