Play - Scott Kylie (онлайн книги бесплатно полные .txt) 📗

“Mal, let’s go,” I said. “Give everyone a chance to cool off.”

Again, he ignored me.

“Walk away, bro,” said Ben, voice eerily calm.

Beer dripped from Mal’s hair. The front of his shirt was soaked. From behind us came a flash of light. A guy stood with his phone, taking pictures. Asshole.

Without another word, Mal turned and bolted for the stairs, almost sending a girl carrying a bottle of something flying. I just stood there stunned for a moment, useless and stinking of beer. Ben and Sam took off after him.

“Anne, let us handle it,” said David.

David and Jimmy both left too, jogging up the small, dark stairwell. Like hell I was doing as I was told.

Mal had left his jacket over the back of his seat. He’d freeze out there. I picked it up and a hand grabbed my wrist. Ev’s hand.

“Please, give them a chance to talk,” she said, getting in my face. “Those guys have been together a long time.”

I picked up my purse and held his jacket to my chest. “No.”

“But–”

I didn’t have time for this shit. What I needed to do was to find Mal and see if he was all right.

I rushed up the stairs, past the ground-floor bar and out the door. The cold night air chilled me, courtesy of the wet patches on my sweater and jeans. My heart beat double-time. Shit. There was no sign of any of them in either direction. His black Jeep was gone from across the street. They could be fucking anywhere by now.

“Shit.”

What to do? Where to go? Maybe he’d headed back to the hotel. Yes, of course. A cab cruised by and I held out my arm. Far too damn slowly, it pulled to a stop.

I threw open the back door and climbed in. “The Benson, please.”

I’d find him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The text from Ev came at quarter to eleven. I’d been wide awake, staring at the ceiling because staring at the walls had gotten old. He hadn’t come back to the hotel. I’d been waiting for over half an hour.

Ev: Lauren gave me your number. The guys talked things out with Mal then he took off again. They don’t know where to.

Anne: Ok

Ev: Do you know where he might be?

Anne: If I find him I’ll let you know

Ev: Thanks

He might have been driving around town. But far more likely, if he was still worked up, he’d want to take it out on his drum kit.

I took a cab. Money might be tight, but I wouldn’t be waiting for him to come to me any longer. Hopefully David and co. had talked him down, calmed him. Now it was time to play my part, whatever that might be. I sat in the backseat, trying to think up speeches. All in all, I was out of wise words.

A hazy drizzle began to fall from the sky as I arrived at the practice hall. My breath misted in the cold. Ah, Portland. It never disappointed. Best weather ever. Mal’s Jeep sat parked next to the building. Thank god, he was here.

The frenetic beat of drums hammered through the building’s walls, shaking it to its foundation. A few brave bugs circled the dim light above the metal door. He’d left the door unlocked, thankfully. I stepped inside, bracing myself for the noise. Up on the stage, Mal, sitting in a pool of light, was creating an almighty storm of noise.

Closer to him, broken drum sticks littered the area. Mal had snapped an impressive amount in such a short time.

I climbed up onto the stage, making my way around to him. He sat, poised at the drum kit with eyes closed, hands moving so fast they were almost a blur. Sweat shone, already covering his upper body. Blond hair stuck to the sides of his face. A quarter-empty bottle of Johnny Walker Black Label sat beside him on the floor. The lines of his muscles and the angles of his cheekbones were stark beneath the harsh lighting.

He seemed lost in his own world, totally unaware. I hesitated for a moment then sank down, sitting cross-legged. I covered my ears but it made little difference to the deafening thunder of the drums. No matter. The clash of the cymbals cut through me. The heavy thud of the bass hit my heart. He played on and on, moving between rhythms but never slowing down. Not even to drink. He’d pick up the bottle and just hold it, one-handed, his other hand and both feet never missing a beat.

After the second slug of scotch, though, he didn’t get the bottle all the way to the floor before letting go. It tipped over, liquid pouring out. I slid over and set it upright, replacing it in its spot beside him. For the first time he seemed to register my presence, tilting his chin in greeting or appreciation or I don’t know what. Maybe I just imagined it. Then he was back to the music, powering on.

I pulled out my phone then hesitated. Ev had pissed me off, holding me up, but these people were also his family. They deserved to know he was still in one piece.

Anne: He’s at the practice hall

Ev: Thank you

David Ferris strode in not fifteen minutes later. He nodded to me, then picked up a guitar and plugged it in. As the first strains of noise rang out Mal opened one eye and saw David standing opposite him. Nothing was said. Time moved by, both sluggish and swift at once. The two of them played for hours. I fell into some sort of daze. It took me a moment to realize when they finally stopped.

“Hey,” he croaked, the words muted as if we were underwater. The noise might have broken my ears.

“Hi.”

He put the almost empty bottle of scotch to his lips and tossed some back. His gaze stayed on me. Carefully, he screwed the lid back on. It took him a couple of tries. “I’m a little bit fucked-up, pumpkin.”

“That’s okay. I’ll help get you back to the hotel.”

He nodded, sniffed his armpits. “And I stink.”

“I’ll help you shower too.” I walked over and knelt between his legs. “Not a problem.”

His hands curved over my cheeks, molding my face. Slowly, he pressed his lips to mine. “Mm, I feel something for you, Anne. Which is pretty fucking impressive given how numb I am right now.”

“It’s huge,” I agreed.

“I’m not normally like this … drinking this much. Want you to know that. It’s just …” A muscle spasmed in his jaw and he stared off into the distance.

“I know, Mal. It’s okay.”

No response.

“We’ll get through this.”

“Anne–” In a flurry of motion, he fell back off the stool. I grabbed at his jeans, trying to keep him upright. Not the best idea. One of Mal’s big-ass Chucks bumped the side of my head, which hurt. His other foot upset the cymbal stands and they clattered to the floor.

“Shit.” Footsteps rushed closer.

Mal lay on his back, laughing.

I sat back on my heels, rubbing at the tender spot on my skull. What a night.

“You alright?” asked David, crouching beside me.

“Fine!” called Mal, still laughing like a loon.

“Not talking to you, asswipe. You kicked Anne.”

“What?” Mal rolled over, grabbed the stool, and threw it out of the way. He rushed to my side, pushing David away. “Pumpkin, you okay?”

“Yes, you only clipped me. No damage done.”

“Fuck. Oh, shit, Anne.” His arms went around me, hugging me so tight he nearly throttled me. “I’m so sorry. We have to get her to a hospital and get a brains can. Brain scan. Fuck, one of those.”

“I don’t need a hospital or a scan. It’s just a bump.”

“You sure?” asked David, checking out my eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “It was an accident, Mal. Calm down.”

“I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t date you,” said David.

“Fuck off, Davie.”

“Parties over. Time for everyone to go home.” David wrestled him off of me and onto his feet.

Mal seemed perplexed to find himself there. He just sort of stood and swayed, frowning down at me. “You okay?”