Some Kind of Hell (4 page)

Logan drinked, licked his lips, and looked at me. “Your turn.”

“Tough guy,” I said.

I don’t know what suddenly got into me. I had this urge racing through my body... I wanted to punch Logan in the mouth as much as I wanted to kiss him.

Thankfully Maggie walked over to the small table and put arms out.

“You two separate for a second,” she said.

The look on her face was priceless.

I stepped next to Maggie and put my arm into hers. We held hands for a few seconds until Tatum made some kind of comment about it.

One drink and they’re holding hands... what’ll happen after three?

Looking at him sort of pissed me off too. I looked at Maggie and smiled.

“After two shots,” I said, “this...”

I grabbed Maggie’s face and turned her head, kissing her cheek.

“After three shots,” I said, now turning Maggie’s face to mine.

Her eyes widened and I planted a big kiss on her lips.

Of course the guys cheered.

“What happens after four?” Tatum asked.

I looked him dead in the eyes and smiled. “You couldn’t handle it.”

I grabbed the bottle of vodka again and drank some more.

The more it went down, the worse I actually felt. It did nothing to numb how I felt. What it did though was make it easier to get it all out.

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Maggie said. “Let’s have a drink to the band.”

“Yes,” Tripp said. “To the band.”

Tripp put a fist to the middle of the table. Tatum joined next followed by Logan. I looked at the three fists and appreciated what they all had together. They were more than just band mates and friends. They had a bond that was amazing.

“We’re going to be fucking huge,” Tripp said. “But we have to keep our heads straight. Play the music we believe in. Write the songs that people want to hear.”

“No,” Logan said. “The songs they need to hear. The songs that take their pain and numb it for a bit. The songs that speak to them in a way that they feel nobody else can.” I noticed Logan staring at me. “The songs that can change someone’s life...”

“Yes,” I whispered, not even realizing it.

“Songs that matter,” Tatum added.

“DownCrash,” Tripp said.

“For life,” Tatum said.

“For life,” Logan repeated, his eyes still locked to mine.

They took their fists back and they all shared a drink. When Logan finished, he gave me the bottle and nodded.

I took another sip.

Burn, burn, good.

“Let’s play something,” Logan said.

The way he spoke to everyone in the room yet stared directly at me really started to get to me. I still wanted to punch him. I still wanted to kiss him. But his eyes were killing me. They were twisting and tying up my feelings with my needs and wants, leaving me unsure what I should do next.

He stepped towards me while the rest of the group walked to the front of the garage where DownCrash practiced. An inch of space kept us apart. He looked down at me, overwhelming me with something I couldn’t figure out. His eyes were commanding, that I knew, but it was like something else existed there. Maybe something he was hiding or something I was meant to find out about.

“Still have my guitar pick?” he asked almost in a whisper.

“Yeah. You need it?” I asked.

Logan half smiled, spinning my heart like a top. “No. But you might need it later.”

He turned and went to his band, leaving me dangling like I was going to fall off a fifty foot cliff and I had two fingers at the top trying to hold on tight. I took a few breaths to calm myself, knowing damn well my face was flush. I wasn’t so much worried about my face as I was other parts of my body. I wanted to be mad at myself for being so turned on by Logan, but what did it matter, right? I didn’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t have any commitments other than my shitty part-time job. I owned nothing to anyone for anything, if that made sense.

Whatever, it made sense in my mind.

“We need to get those two new songs done,” Tripp said. “Like yesterday.”

“Chill man,” Tatum said. “We’ll get it.”

“I want a demo that just...”

“Kicks ass,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Tripp said. “Yeah. Not like one or two good songs and then fluffy shit.”

“Fluffy shit?” I asked.

“You know what I mean,” Tripp said. “Songs that are forced to be there to take up space. I want each one to matter.”

“What about an acoustic song?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know...”

“Hear me out,” Logan said. He grabbed an acoustic guitar and opened a beat up blue notebook. “I’ve been writing a song for a little while. Just messing around really, but I think it could be something.”

“Let’s hear it,” Tatum said.

I realized I was almost standing on my toes. I bit my lip, desperate to scream,
Yes! Please play... and sing... and...

“Acoustic though?” Tripp asked.

“Think about it,” Logan said. “We do acoustic at shows now. People love it.”

Logan strummed a chord and stared at Tripp. He strummed another chord, then another. Tripp nodded and waited for Logan to keep going.

Logan turned and faced his notebook. “Just bear with me...”

He started to play again, plucking the strings of the guitar, creating a beautiful sounding song. He played it over and over, bobbing his head, finding his rhythm. I watched him take a deep breath and then he started to sing.

The second I heard his voice, all alone, my mouth fell open.

That was maybe the most shocking part of DownCrash. It wasn’t just three guys coming together to form a band and write music; it was three guys who could honestly have solo careers of their own. They could all play any instrument they wanted, sing anything they wanted, and were incapable of writing a crappy song.

That last part was proved true about a minute into Logan’s acoustic song. Not only was I in shock and awe over it, but so was Scarlett and Maggie. Tatum stood from his drum kit and walked slowly around, grabbing an acoustic guitar. He elbowed Tripp who did the same. They sat and started to watch the way Logan played. In a matter of a few seconds, the three guys in DownCrash were playing as though it was a song they had been practicing for a while.

After the second chorus, Logan stopped for a second.

“Here is where I want to put a solo,” he said.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

“I want a two guitar solo though... like I’ll start down here” - his fingers pointing to the neck of his guitar - “and then you, Tatum, take over an octave higher...”

“Me?” Tatum asked. “Solo?”

“Dude, why not?” Tripp asked.

“So, you’re in for an acoustic song?” Logan asked.

“If it’s this song, fuck yeah.”

I watched more rock n’ roll magic happen right before my eyes. In a single night, I got to experience DownCrash’s greatest show ever, witness the band get signed to a management team, and now got to watch them write perhaps one of the most beautiful songs I ever heard in my life.

After Logan finished the first time, the band ran through it two more times before calling it quits. The three then went back to the table with the drinks, talking about the lyrics, the tempo, the solos. They were quite honestly speaking a different language, but it certainly translated beautifully when they played their music.

I lingered back at the instruments, sort of feeling invisible. Maggie slithered next to Tatum as Scarlett did the same to Tripp. It left me alone and ready to go back to hating life. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Logan’s notebook.

Just sitting there.

Open.

I took a step back and nobody noticed me. Ten more of those same steps and I was next to the notebook. Everyone at the table was in deep conversation. Logan had his hands positioned like he held an invisible guitar, giving Tatum some ideas for their guitar solo in the new acoustic song.

Fine by me.

I turned around and looked at the notebook.

The scribbled lyrics made sense and matched the song Logan sang. I could still hear his voice in my head.

I flipped the page back and saw that the pages were literally filled with lyrics and lines and questions. Just... everywhere.

Come to my side, again, I feel the need.

Wake me, take the death, just leave.

The lines and lyrics were meaningful and deep. Besides the lyrics I knew from the song Logan had just sang, everything else was new to me. This wasn’t a DownCrash notebook, but it was something more personal. Maybe that’s how he got through his pain... he wrote it out. Random lines. Random thoughts. But everything had meaning.

I ran my finger down one of the pages and read more lines, feeling my own emotions catching up to me.

In your silence you speak the loudest.

Did you ever really live? Love?

I thought I laughed once, but I just tasted my own tears.

I took a deep breath, feeling shaky, and blinked hard and fast, not wanting to cry over a notebook.

“See anything you like?”

Logan’s voice scared me and I jumped. I stiffened and inhaled deep. I hurried to touch my face and wipe my eyes, just in case a tear or two had snuck out.

Then Logan touched me, gently, at my hips.

I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

I could have kicked my leg back and hit him with the heel of my foot right at his balls, but I didn’t. Because, face it, I wanted Logan to touch me. I wanted anyone to touch me. I wanted to have that feeling again. Someone else’s touch, heat, need, against me. I wanted to collapse into someone, for a minute even.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Logan’s lips appeared at my ear. “I never let anyone read my notebook without hell to pay for it...”

“What if I’m already in some kind of hell?” I asked, feeling a sense of honesty that I couldn’t avoid.

“Then I guess you can keep reading,” Logan said.

He was against me. My hands were flat against the table. My fingers wanted to curl. My deepest urges wanted me to thrust back at him. To feel more of him. I knew if I turned he’d see me on the verge of crying.

I couldn’t stand that.

“Logan, I need a minute,” I said.

“No you don’t,” he said.

He was bold but sexy.

“Logan...”

“Annie,” he whispered. “You don’t think I’ve been watching you? I’ve seen the true Annie... when nobody’s looking. How fast your face drops and your eyes wander. Where are you right now?”

“I’m right here,” I said.

“No you’re not.”

Before I could say a word Logan was gone. I thought he was gone for good, maybe pissed at me for not playing whatever game he wanted. A second later, he had my arm and hurried to turn me around. I tried to resist and kept my head turned, but I was no match to him. When he tried to touch my face I swung my right hand at him, slapping him in the face. The slap was loud and it stung the hell out of my hand. I let out a small cry and looked at him, shocked at my own inability to control myself.

Logan touched his face and stretched his jaw for a second.

“Oh, shit, Logan,” I whispered.

“How did that feel?” he asked.

“Good,” I said. “Really good.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

I felt even worse a second later when I started to laugh. A tear fell out of my eye as I laughed, just proving how fucked up my emotions were right at that tender moment. Here I had a killer hot rockstar standing in front of me and I was still thinking about everything else. About Jared. About my grandfather. About my life. And yet I still had the rockstar there, even after slapping him in the face.

Logan touched my face with his pointer finger, drawing a line down the tear on my cheek.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“Tell you what?”

“Everything,” he said. “I’ve been there.”

“Not where I am,” I said.

“Tell me and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

I hesitated, almost wishing I didn’t have a table right behind me so I could turn and run away. Those were the moments when I would normally run. Say my peace for a second and bolt out of there. Just like with Jared, right? Soon as he told me everything, I left. I could have stayed, right? I could have talked to him. Figured things out. But how? He was going to have a baby. There was nothing left there.

Logan put his hands to my body again, this time lifting me to the table.

“Don’t move,” he said.

I nodded.

He slipped away and came back a few seconds later with the bottle of vodka. He took a drink and positioned himself between my legs. He leaned close and touched the table with his hands.

“Talk to me,” he said. “Annie. Please talk to me.”

I don’t know what came over me when it did. Maybe the emotion. Maybe the vodka. Maybe reading Logan’s notebook and trusting him - and those killer eyes of his - but I began to spill it all. I talked about Jared. How we met. How we were together. How it went to hell but I figured it would just run its course or something, I really didn’t know. It was all routine and habit by the time Jared told me what he had done. Then came the kicker of telling Logan about that. Jared didn’t just cheat; he got another girl pregnant.

When I stopped talking, I took a breath and felt tears rush to my eyes again.

“Have a drink,” he said. “Fuck.”

I took a drink and asked, “Can you relate now?”

“Nope,” he said. “But I’m sure it feels good to get that off your chest like that, doesn’t it?”

I had to hand it to Logan, it definitely felt good to get it all off my chest like that. He stared at me until I finally gave in and just smiled.

“Perfect,” he said, lifting the bottle to his lips.

He drank and offered me a drink.

I took it and as I started to slide off the table, Logan’s hands clamped at my legs, stopping me.

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asked.

I looked beyond him and realized I hadn’t thought that part of the night out. From what I gathered, Tripp owned the garage and the house. With Maggie drinking, she couldn’t drive me home. I certainly couldn’t drive and wouldn’t even let the thought cross my mind for a second.