off, uncommunicative. Had she lived, she most likely would have broken up, either she would’ve left me, or I her.
Sky is under a lot of pressure. She tries not to show how concerned she is about the tour, but the way she’s been pushing herself lately is a dead giveaway.
I smile a broad smile to reassure her. “No. I promise. I’m just thinking about how we can best use Pit Viper to enhance your songs.”
This is not the whole truth. I also have other feelings I want to talk about with her, too, but this is not the right time or place. Her hopefulness has rubbed off on me or some shit, because I’m beginning to feel like we may have a shot at this—whatever it is—between us.
“You know, we wouldn’t need Pit Viper if another rocker I know and love would play for me.” She slaps her hand over her mouth as if she realizes she’s said the “L” word. “I mean, you know, love as in ‘like a lot’ as friends, fuckbuddies, or whatever the hell we are.”
I let her off the hook because she’s about to have a meltdown and I need her to be comfortable and unfrazzled enough to negotiate with Pit Viper. He’ll take over, if she allows him to. Controlling fucker…
I react to her faux pas with a mixture of sincerity and levity. “Listen, Sky. I’ve grown to care for you, too, and we are most definitely good friends…who fuck a lot, so don’t sweat it.”
She laughs. “You’re incorrigible, Brody.”
“Most rockers are.”
“But then you’re not in some ways. You’re really an enigma. I said I was going to figure you out, and I’m not anywhere near doing that.”
I sigh. “And it’s entirely my fault, Sky. I promise, when this tour is over, we’re going to have a conversation about everything you want to know.”
“Including that R.I.P. tattoo on your bicep?”
To be honest, I’m surprised she has taken this long to ask about it. “Yes, and the person who inspired it. Okay?”
She smiles. “Okay.”
I look deep into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Sky? I mean really trust me?”
She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then her green eyes shine with an emotion that is unmistakable when she answers me. “I know it’s been a short time, Brody, but I do trust you. I trust you with my life.”
“Good, because I’m going to need you to hold on to your curiosity about me and my past for a little while longer.”
She nods, her mouth twisted to one side, as if she’s resisting the urge to frown.
“I’ve met Pit Viper,” I continue. “In fact, he and I were on the same label once upon a time. I don’t look very much like he remembers me and I certainly don’t go by the same name, so I’m going to try and psych him out. Can I trust you to just go with that? Like I said, I’m going to come completely clean with you very soon.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll play along.”
The car slows and she peers out the window. “Oh look, we’re here.”
The driver stops the car at the curb.
Malik jumps out of the front seat to open the door for us.
An explosion of camera flashes blind us and the paps calling to Sky begin their symphony of photograph taking as we exit.
Malik positions himself in front of us as sort of a human battering ram, carving us a path through the melee.
“Skylar! Skylar, look here!” a reporter shouts.
“Hey Skylar, who’s your boy toy?” another one of them calls.
This is not a press conference, so we don’t entertain any questions.
Skylar and I just smile for the cameras and I move her toward the restaurant door.
Like a linebacker, Malik straight-arms a photographer who gets too close and moves him out of our way.
Finally, we’re inside. The hostess whisks us to a VIP private dining room. The one and only Pit Viper is already seated, accompanied by a man I assume is his manager.
Pit looks askance at me.
The feeling is mutual. Still, I swoop in to shake his hand while Sky checks her wrap with the hostess. “Brody Kent,” I say. “We spoke on the
Sky is under a lot of pressure. She tries not to show how concerned she is about the tour, but the way she’s been pushing herself lately is a dead giveaway.
I smile a broad smile to reassure her. “No. I promise. I’m just thinking about how we can best use Pit Viper to enhance your songs.”
This is not the whole truth. I also have other feelings I want to talk about with her, too, but this is not the right time or place. Her hopefulness has rubbed off on me or some shit, because I’m beginning to feel like we may have a shot at this—whatever it is—between us.
“You know, we wouldn’t need Pit Viper if another rocker I know and love would play for me.” She slaps her hand over her mouth as if she realizes she’s said the “L” word. “I mean, you know, love as in ‘like a lot’ as friends, fuckbuddies, or whatever the hell we are.”
I let her off the hook because she’s about to have a meltdown and I need her to be comfortable and unfrazzled enough to negotiate with Pit Viper. He’ll take over, if she allows him to. Controlling fucker…
I react to her faux pas with a mixture of sincerity and levity. “Listen, Sky. I’ve grown to care for you, too, and we are most definitely good friends…who fuck a lot, so don’t sweat it.”
She laughs. “You’re incorrigible, Brody.”
“Most rockers are.”
“But then you’re not in some ways. You’re really an enigma. I said I was going to figure you out, and I’m not anywhere near doing that.”
I sigh. “And it’s entirely my fault, Sky. I promise, when this tour is over, we’re going to have a conversation about everything you want to know.”
“Including that R.I.P. tattoo on your bicep?”
To be honest, I’m surprised she has taken this long to ask about it. “Yes, and the person who inspired it. Okay?”
She smiles. “Okay.”
I look deep into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Sky? I mean really trust me?”
She looks thoughtful for a moment, and then her green eyes shine with an emotion that is unmistakable when she answers me. “I know it’s been a short time, Brody, but I do trust you. I trust you with my life.”
“Good, because I’m going to need you to hold on to your curiosity about me and my past for a little while longer.”
She nods, her mouth twisted to one side, as if she’s resisting the urge to frown.
“I’ve met Pit Viper,” I continue. “In fact, he and I were on the same label once upon a time. I don’t look very much like he remembers me and I certainly don’t go by the same name, so I’m going to try and psych him out. Can I trust you to just go with that? Like I said, I’m going to come completely clean with you very soon.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll play along.”
The car slows and she peers out the window. “Oh look, we’re here.”
The driver stops the car at the curb.
Malik jumps out of the front seat to open the door for us.
An explosion of camera flashes blind us and the paps calling to Sky begin their symphony of photograph taking as we exit.
Malik positions himself in front of us as sort of a human battering ram, carving us a path through the melee.
“Skylar! Skylar, look here!” a reporter shouts.
“Hey Skylar, who’s your boy toy?” another one of them calls.
This is not a press conference, so we don’t entertain any questions.
Skylar and I just smile for the cameras and I move her toward the restaurant door.
Like a linebacker, Malik straight-arms a photographer who gets too close and moves him out of our way.
Finally, we’re inside. The hostess whisks us to a VIP private dining room. The one and only Pit Viper is already seated, accompanied by a man I assume is his manager.
Pit looks askance at me.
The feeling is mutual. Still, I swoop in to shake his hand while Sky checks her wrap with the hostess. “Brody Kent,” I say. “We spoke on the
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