Sinners On Tour 01 Backstage Pass (26 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian said.

“You do sort of look like him, if you had huge sideburns and a chubbier face,” the waitress said. “I saw them at Woodstock. That was right before they made it big. Do you play guitar, too, dol ? You have that rock star look about you.”

“A little,” Brian admitted. He hoped she didn’t make a scene. He’d been enjoying his obscurity, even if he had been the object of curious stares.

“I’d love to stay and talk, but I’m so busy,” the waitress said. “Do you want another beer?”

He glanced at Myrna, who was cautiously slurping steaming chowder from her soupspoon. “Just water.”

When the waitress left, he started eating his fried clams. They were grubbin’. Tender instead of chewy. Fried to a perfect crisp, yet not greasy. Deliciously seasoned. “Try one of these, Myrna.” He placed one on her plate next to her bread bowl.

She bit into the fried clam. “That is good.” She scooped some chowder on her spoon and leaned across the table. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Her chowder was good, too. “I know how to pick ’em,” he said, grinning to himself.

“Then how do we always end up eating fast food?”

“It’s fast.”

“Hence, the name.” She stole one of his french fries. “Now, that’s a french fry.”

After lunch, Brian headed for the restroom. On the way back, he cornered their waitress near the kitchen and convinced her to disclose the location of a nice, quiet beach. He left her a nice tip, double the cost of the meal, and escorted his lovely date back to the car.

“I’l drive,” he said, opening the passenger door for her.

Myrna reached up and slid her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. She rose up on tiptoe to claim his mouth in a searing kiss. His heart skipped a beat when her tongue brushed against his lip. She knew how to get his blood boiling, but he had other things in mind for their romantic beach visit.

“Thanks for lunch,” she whispered. “Are we going to Tampa now?”

“Not just yet.”

Myrna leaned forward to gaze out the windshield. A gorgeous view of the Gulf of Mexico stretched as far as the eye could see. Tal palms punctuated the narrow strip of white sand beyond the grassy dunes. Rough waves sloshed against the shore as the storm clouds in the distance continued to march across the landscape. Brian had driven half an hour into the middle of nowhere, but their venture off the beaten path had been wel worth it. Here, she could imagine they were the only two people on earth.

“How did you know about this place?” Myrna asked.

He smiled. Smugly. “I persuaded our waitress to disclose her secrets.”

She couldn’t explain the pang of jealousy that pierced her chest. “Persuaded? Did it have anything to do with those amazing fingers of yours?”

“Not tel ing.”

She slapped his shoulder and then opened the door. He grabbed her and pul ed her across his lap, wedging her between his body and the steering wheel. “I just asked her where I could find the most romantic beach in the area. She cal ed you a lucky girl and pinched my cheek as if she were my Great Aunt Stel a.”

“I am a lucky girl,” Myrna whispered. She touched his face, staring deeply into his eyes. She expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. He held her gaze until she had to look away.

“Let’s go watch the waves,” he said.

She nodded and slid from his lap.

They walked hand in hand to the beach. Brian settled on the sand and urged her to sit between his legs in front of him. He tugged her against his chest and rested his cheek against her hair as they gazed out at the water.

“There’s something about the ocean that feels eternal,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. “I get disconnected when I don’t see it for a while.”

“I find it soothing,” she said. “Being from the Midwest, I haven’t seen the ocean many times.”

“Then what makes you feel connected to the universe?”

She thought for a moment. “Gazing at the stars at night. You can’t real y see them wel in the city. Whenever I go visit my parents in the summer, I look up at the stars for hours.”

His hands stroked her bare arms. “Can I look up at the stars with you sometime?”

“I would like that.”

“And meet your parents?”

“I wouldn’t like that.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

She could tel by the tone of his voice that he was teasing, but he wasn’t far from the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of him, but they’d be ashamed of her for dating him. Brian wasn’t what they would consider son-in-law material, or even boyfriend material. But they had adored Jeremy, so they obviously were poor judges of character.

“Of course I’m not ashamed of you,” she said.

And she didn’t want to discuss her parents. She wished he would stop trying to pry into her private life.

She kicked off her sandals and wriggled her toes into the warm sand with a contented sigh. She reached for Brian’s left boot.

“Take your boots off.” He helped her tug it free and then the other one. She pul ed his socks off and tucked them into his boots. He drew her close to his chest again and she stroked the tops of his bare feet with her fingertips—tracing the ridges of tendons and toying with the light dusting of hair on the top of his foot.

“Even your feet are sexy,” she murmured.

“Is that your favorite part of me?” he asked, his low voice so close to her ear goose bumps rose on her nape.

“You should know my favorite part of you.”

“Do you cal it The Beast?”

She grinned. She figured that’s what he’d think. “No, but The Beast made the top ten.”

“Top ten, huh?” He kissed the edge of her ear. A shiver raced down her spine. “Is it my lips?”

She shook her head. “No, but they’re also in the top ten.”

His tongue brushed against the pulse point beneath her ear. “Tongue?”

“Nope. My top ten seems to be awful y crowded.”

He laughed and hugged her. “It’s obviously my hands.” He held them in front of her and flexed his fingers.

“Wrong again. Good guess, though.”

“Okay, I give up,” he said.

She turned her head to look at him. “It’s your brain.”

He covered his surprise with a laugh. “Wel , I can honestly say that was the last thing I thought you’d say.”

“Why? It controls al your other parts. It’s responsible for your amazing talent, both on the guitar and in bed.” He grinned. She’d never figure out why he needed her to compliment him when he had groupies screaming his godliness at the top of their lungs. “It makes you say things that make me laugh and make me think. And it gives you that sweet, romantic streak that I try so hard to resist.

Your personality, your talent, heart, soul. What makes you, you. It’s al in that amazing mind of yours. Don’t get me wrong. The body that carries it around is fabulous, too.”

“I think I’m blushing.”

She turned to face him, kneeling between his thighs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Is that real y al it takes to make you blush?”

She kissed him tenderly. He kissed her in return but didn’t turn up the heat like he usual y did.

When she leaned back to look at him, he smiled and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Did you lock the car?”

He sighed. “You’re always so practical, Professor.”

“You mean boring.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He rol ed his eyes at her and shook his head. He stood and helped her to her feet. While she brushed the sand from her skirt, he scooped his boots and her sandals from the sand and tossed them into the car before locking the doors.

When he returned to her side, he claimed her hand and led her toward the angry surf. The cool wind from the approaching storm blew Myrna’s hair against her face and her skirt tangled around her legs.

“Great day for a walk!” she cal ed over the crashing waves. “I think we’re going to get caught in a downpour.”

Brian glanced up at the sky. “We might.”

He kept walking, her hand tucked in his. The wet sand squished between her toes. She curled them under with each step, liking the way it felt. A wave washed across her feet and she danced sideways. “That’s chil y.”

“The water’s real y churning. If you want to go back—”

“A crab!” Myrna bent to snatch a half-dol ar-sized crab out of the sand. She held it up by the edge of its shel to show Brian. The creature’s legs wriggled as it tried to run away in mid-air. “Isn’t he cute?”

He chuckled. “He’s a little smal to make a good meal.”

“I wouldn’t let you eat him.” She turned the crab to look it in its stalked eyes. “Isn’t that right, Pinchy?”

“You named him?”

She careful y placed the little crab back in the sand and nudged it toward the surf. “Run for your life, Pinchy. I’ve seen the way this man eats.”

“Hey!” Brian grabbed her from behind, his fingers digging into her ribs. She laughed and struggled out of his grasp, taking off at a ful sprint along the edge of the water. She could hear Brian’s steps just behind her. She slowed slightly so he could catch her. He col ided with her back and she stumbled. Her arms shot forward to catch her fal , but Brian rescued her from an impending face-plant and scooped her up into his strong arms.

She laughed, slightly breathless, and gazed up at him.

“I almost bit the dust,” she said, “or I guess it would be sand. You rescued me.”

“Does this make me your hero?”

“You were already my hero.”

He grinned and rol ed his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never met a woman who needed saving less than you do.”

“That’s not true. You’ve saved me from loneliness.” She kissed him. “And sexual frustration.” And she hadn’t heard Jeremy’s accusations in her head for a while now.

He chuckled. “Then you must be my hero, too.”

She kissed him again, her arms stealing around his neck, her fingers intertwining with the long silky hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t get me al worked up,” he murmured against her lips.

“Why not? We’ve got the beach al to ourselves.”

He groaned into her mouth and hugged her closer. She deepened the kiss. He pul ed away. “That’s enough of that.”

He set her to her feet and she wobbled unsteadily. He took her hand and started walking again. She walked beside him silently, pondering his reluctance. This wasn’t like him. Had she done something wrong?

“Have you worked up the courage to ask yet?” he asked, scooping a piece of driftwood from the beach and flinging it into the waves.

“Huh?”

“Why I’m not rutting around on you in the sand yet?”

“Oh that. I hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re here to get to know each other better. And I don’t mean in the biblical sense of the word. We already know each other that way. I’ve decided no sex until after the show tonight.”

“No sex?”

“That’s right.”

“And why do you get to decide?”

He grinned. “It’s more of a personal chal enge. Do you have any interest in getting to know me at al ? Personal y, I mean.”

“Can’t I just Google you? Isn’t your entire life somewhere online?”

He scowled. “Probably.”

She reached up and smoothed his forehead with her fingers. “Don’t make that face. Tel me how Sinners was formed.”

He glanced at her. “Do you want the real story or the more theatrical, online version?”

“The real story. I can always read the online version later.”

He smiled nostalgical y. “Trey and I were the outcasts of Beverly Hil s.”

“You lived in Beverly Hil s?”

“Yeah, my dad got rich and famous when I was a kid and Trey’s dad is a plastic surgeon, so we lived in the Hil s.”

“No shit? I never would have guessed that in a mil ion years.”

“We didn’t real y fit with the other rich kids and everyone else on the planet hated us because we were rich. So we stuck together.

We played guitar. A lot. In eighth grade, we started a failing band—”

“Crysys.”

He chuckled. “I thought you hadn’t Googled me.”

“One of Trey’s groupies mentioned it.”

“Ah. Anyway, we got seriously heckled during a party gig in the tenth grade. By Eric Anderson.”

“Eric Anderson?”

“He’s since changed his last name to Sticks.”

Myrna chuckled. “I always thought it was strange that a drummer had the last name Sticks.”

“Yeah, he’s lame that way and had it legal y changed. Anyway, when he heckled us, Trey got so pissed. I honestly don’t think he’d ever been that pissed before. He dove off the stage and tore into Eric. Trey was always fighting back then, but this was beyond brutal.

Blood everywhere. Shattered Eric’s cheekbone. Good thing Trey’s dad is a plastic surgeon.”

“Trey?” She found that hard to believe. He didn’t seem the type to hit someone that hard.

“Yeah, I was always breaking up his fights. I got my ass kicked more than once because of that chip on his shoulder. He’s chil ed a lot in his old age.”

“Yeah, twenty-eight is ancient.” Myrna rol ed her eyes at him.

“It’s a hel of a lot older than sixteen. Anyway, after he and Eric beat each other to a pulp at this chick’s birthday party, Trey said something like, ‘Yeah, wel , if you can do better, why don’t you prove it?’ And Eric did. He’s fucking gifted, you know?”

“He is a great drummer,” Myrna agreed.

“That’s what he plays now, but he can play guitar, too. Bass. Piano. Sax. Violin. Ukulele. Fuckin’ kazoo. You name it, Eric wails on it.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And he has a fantastic voice. He sang and played bass for Crysys until Sed found us, and then he switched to drums permanently.”

Myrna’s brow furrowed. “Why did he switch to drums?”

“He’s the best drummer in the business. And… Sed gives him an inferiority complex.”

“Sed gives everyone an inferiority complex. The man has more self-esteem than fifteen supermodels combined. I think he was a monarch in his past life or something.”

“Henry the Eighth, probably.” He made a cutting motion across his throat complete with sound effects.

Myrna laughed.

“Sed’s always been confident like that,” Brian said. “He came up to us after a Crysys gig and insisted he was our new singer.