Rivers

Ridge empties the contents of the Taco Bell bag on the coffee table just as I sit on the couch and set down two beers. Shuffling through the options, I ask, “Where’s my double stuffed?”

“Weren’t you ever taught that you get what you fucking get and you don’t throw a fucking fit?”

Chuckling, I toss a beef Meximelt at him. “It went a little differently back then.”

“Too many fucks?”

“Yeah. Pretty much. My kindergarten teacher didn’t say that version.” Spying my two requests, I reach over and grab the double stuffed tacos and kiss my delicious pretties. “Come to me.”

After shoving half a Meximelt into his mouth, he pops open the beer can and washes it down. “Wanna head downtown later? The Dahlgreens are playing Mohawk tonight.”

“Man, I haven’t seen those guys in a few years. They’re back from New York?”

“Moved back over the summer. I told Sheckler I’d stop by.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good to get out.”

* * *

It’s weird how much things change when you’re away. We didn’t know the doorman at Mohawk even though he knew us and let us skip ahead of the line. We missed the first two bands but arrive while The Dahlgreens are still setting up.

Grabbing beers from the bar, we head over to the side of the stage. Sheckler, their lead singer, nods when we approach, a large smile spreading. He stands to greet us. “Crow. Carson. Good to see ya. What brings you to town?”

I hand him a beer, and then we shake hands. “Trying to take care of some unfinished business before heading back to LA.”

He and Ridge fist bump as he says, “Cool. You staying for the show?”

“That’s why we came out. Don’t let us down,” I joke.

“Yeah, I’ll try not to.” He turns over his shoulder, and to his bandmates, he says, “We’ve got celebrities in the house. Don’t fuck it up.”

The guys laugh. I used to party on the regular with them in my bad days and created some of my worst memories with them. They’ve cleaned up, as I have, for the most part.

Ridge is a lot like me and doesn’t need the spotlight. With a few people now staring at us, he asks under his breath, “Think it’s safe to stay?”

Looking around, I nod. “It’s cool here.”

Sheckler tightens the mic, and asks, “So how’s the big time? As great as we all dream?”

Ridge replies, “Better.”

Knocking Ridge on the arm, he adds, “The pussy or the profits?”

“Both,” Ridge says, laughing.

Sheckler also chuckles. “It’s good to have The Crow Brothers gone. We’re getting more of your old gigs and maybe even some of the ladies you guys left behind brokenhearted.” Coming to the side of the stage, he adds, “Not that you’re interested or anything, but I saw Meadow Fellowes and your ex in here earlier.”

I lower the beer and lock eyes on his. “I’m listening,” I say, giving him my complete attention.

“Still don’t know how you left that pretty all alone. Was Naomi worth it?”

I tug at my collar, hating that gossip persists in spite of how hard I tried to tell the truth. “Nasty rumors, man. We never hooked up. The whole situation is jacked up. I was only helping her out; a favor that ended up fucking me over with Stella.”

He looks over his shoulder when his name is called, giving the drummer a nod. When Sheckler turns back, he says, “That sucks, Crow. Maybe you should go talk to her. I’ve not heard any updates on her.” He signals to the front corner of the bar. “I stopped by to say hi but had to get back to set up.” He makes sure my eyes are on him before he says, “She’s looking good. And her little sister—damnnn. If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be here talking to you fuckers.”

Jealousy rises like bile in my throat, and my grip on the beer bottle tightens. He’s a fucker for even thinking about them that way.

I turn around and scan the crowd, but it doesn’t take me long to find her. Fuck. My chest constricts, and I hit my fist against it twice, hoping to loosen the sudden ache. Why does she have to be so goddamn gorgeous?

It’s only been a few days since I’ve seen her, but every time feels like the first time again when it comes to her. Just enough light filters over the bar where it reaches her and her sister for me to see her smile and laughing, engaged in a conversation with Meadow.

Meadow was like the little sister I never had. She could be as annoying as Tulsa sometimes, but other times, she was a good girl, sweet as my mom’s apple pie. I used to greet her dates after working out. My muscles were taut, my shirt covered in sweat. I let them know from the get-go not to fuck with my family.

Her parents never gave a shit if she was out late or dating some loser, but Stella and I did. The day of the breakup, Meadow delivered my guitars to me after Stella locked me out of the apartment. I begged her to help me, to get Stella to talk to me. Making a call, she did her best.

Hugging her goodbye wasn’t easy. She wiped her tears on my shirt and told me to keep trying. I did, but anger came after the grief, and I stopped trying.

Standing in my brother’s apartment, I realized we might be over. The shock settled in, the pain engulfing me. I didn’t cry when my mother died. No. I was too busy trying to pretend it wasn’t happening to give her death an ounce of honesty.

I cried for Stella.

I let my fucking emotions pour out of me and dropped to my knees. Her words troubling me now just as they did then. “You promised me you would never hurt me, but you did. You betrayed me, Rivers. You destroyed me.”

That’s when I knew I had fucked-up beyond repair.

I look back, and Ridge asks, “That’s her?”

“That’s her.”

My shoulder is clapped. “Seems time hasn’t healed old wounds, my friend.”

I put my back to her, not knowing what I should do, but hoping she doesn’t see me. “I must seem so fucking weak to you.”

“We’re friends, Rivers. You can talk to me. I’ve been there. The difference is my ex cheated on me, so it was a lot easier to walk away. The night we ended was beyond fucked-up.”

Running my hand through my hair, I glance back once more before saying, “I’m the one who fucked-up. I made a bad decision.”

“Thought you said you didn’t cheat?”

“I didn’t, but she thinks I did.”

“Tell her then. Maybe she’ll forgive you.”

I’m already scoffing before I can think otherwise, because part of me is angry that she didn’t believe me. Didn’t trust me. It took time to see how bad things had looked to her. Understandable why she reacts to me the way she does now.

Please don’t do this to me.

“I’m thinking she’s not quite ready.” The band starts warming up, the sound blaring through the speaker next to us. We work our way back to the bar for another round. I lower the beanie over my brow, hoping to remain unseen by any fans. It would be good to hear the full set from The Dahlgreens, if possible.

I lean my hands against the cement bar top and look down the length to the far end, stealing glances around other patrons. Stella and Meadow are looking around, so I rest my elbows and lower my head, glancing toward the stage. The band starts jamming, and the audience turns to watch. I realize Stella is going to have to look past me to watch the band. Shit. I catch the bartender’s eyes, and she heads over. She asks, “What can I get you?”

There’s no fucking way I’m letting this opportunity pass me by. Looking out of the corners of my eyes, I know exactly what I have to do. “Three bottles of Dos Equis and three shots of Jack Daniels.”

She reaches into the cooler and sets the bottles in front of me, then slides a bottle opener to me. While I pop the tops, she pours the three shots. “On me, good lookin’.”

She’s cute, but she’s no Stella. Reaching into my wallet, I pull out a fifty and hand it to her. “Thanks.”

Impressed, she says, “Thank you.”

I nudge Ridge. “A beer and shot for you.” Grabbing the two shots and bottles from in front of me, I turn to duck out. “Be right back.”

“You sure you want to do that?”

I shrug. “I don’t have a choice.” There’s no way I can’t talk to her one last time.

Walking toward the door, I veer when the bar ends and make my way through a few groups packed in for the show. I stop and stand near but will have to push through some guys to get closer. Watching her and Meadow, she leans in to talk, her hair falling to the side, blocking the side of her face from me. It hits halfway down her back, and the soft wave is enticing to hold like I used to when we would venture to wilder times in bed.

I don’t know why I’m still here when I could be there, and why is my heart beating against my rib cage? I know the answer—this is it. My last shot. She already ended us, so what’s the worst that can happen?

When I step up to stand next them, Meadow casually looks back and then up at me before gasping. “Rivers!”

Stella’s head whips to the side, and her mouth falls open before she catches herself, and asks, “What are you doing here?”

Her defenses are up. I get it. My walls feel high as the night sky right now, but I push past them. “Hi.”

She stands as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her fingers fidget with her jeans, and then she runs her hands along her backside. Maybe she’s nervous too.

Not able to stop myself, I admire how good those jeans look on her. Her eyebrow rises as she shifts under my gaze. She says, “I thought . . . we weren’t supposed to see each . . .” I’m not sure if I like how flustered she appears to be. This could go south fast.

I stand my own ground, though, and hold up the peace offering. “I saw you and Meadow sitting here and thought you might like some drinks.”

Meadow takes a shot glass and a bottle. “Thank you,” she says with a smile that puts me at ease.

“You weren’t even old enough to drink when we last had a drink together.”

She laughs. “Neither were you.”

“This is true.”

Okay, this is good. Meadow’s good with me being here. Then I look at Stella whose shoulders are practically at her ears. She crosses her arms over his chest. “I don’t need you buying us drinks, Rivers. We can afford them.”

“Um,” I start, not sure why she’s so offended. “I didn’t buy them because I thought you couldn’t. I bought them . . .” Shit. Why did I buy them? To get into her good graces or to give me a reason to talk to her? Either way doesn’t change the fact that she told me to stay away from her.

I’m just about to rethink this really terrible plan until I come up with a better one when she takes the shot glass and downs the whiskey. After scrunching her nose, she takes the beer and chases the hard liquor down.

Unexpectedly, she pokes me in the chest and looks up at me. God, I miss her looking at me like I hung the stars. That’s not the look I get this time, but it makes me want to try my damnedest to put those stars back in her eyes. “Thank you for the drinks, but you, sir, are not welcome to stay here staring down at me like that.”

“Like what?”

There was a slight smile before, but it fades and her eyes dip to the floor between us. “Like you care about me.”

“I do care about you.”

“Don’t throw bullshit lines at me. You don’t know me anymore. You can’t possibly care about me when I’m basically a stranger.”

“Stella, come on. I’m just—”

“Leaving. Please, Rivers . . . I can’t do this.” Moving around me, she works her way through the crowd toward the restrooms.

I’m not sure if I should—Meadow pushes my arm, stopping me from second-guessing myself, and says, “Don’t just stand there. Go after her, silly.”

I don’t have to be told twice.