“Then I’ll inform you, I greatly admired the Slipknot shirt you had on last night with the sides cut out.” Murray made the most solemn face. I’d never seen him so serious. I supposed my breasts were a pretty serious topic.
“I have about thirty T-shirts I’m goin’ to cycle through. Wait until you see the one fromPretty in Pink. I went a little crazy with the scissors that day.”
Santiago crossed his legs in my direction, giving me a playful half smile. “Maeve’s got a Blue is the Color shirt.”
Mo groaned. “We toured with them a few times.”
Murray whacked the back of his head. “He means we opened for them. He also means he had it bad for their lead singer’s wife.”
Mo shrugged. “She wasn’t his wife at the time. Come to think of it, she used to wear Unrequited shirts, so it’s kind of full circle if you wear a Blue is the Color shirt. I’m into it.”
I gave Santiago a look that saidI’m right and you’re wrong, so stop bein’ a dick.The look he volleyed back saidI paid for your shirts so how big of a dick can I really be?
He made my chest tight and panicky. With his full attention on me, playfulness behind his deep, dark gray eyes, I was sucked back to the time where he was everything I ever wanted and I’d been willing to give up on myself just so I could have him. Not even have him, just be in his freaking presence.
I jumped out of my seat like I’d been catapulted. “Well, boys, as much fun as this has been, I think Iamgoin’ to take a short nap before the show.”
Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed my comfy clothes from my bunk and retreated to the bathroom. I did a quick change into an unsliced Unrequited tee and capri leggings, washed Amsterdam from my face, and headed back to attempt a nap.
Standing between me and my bunk was Santi. Tall, broad Santi, taking up all the room in the world. His back was leaning against my bed, arms crossed over his chest.
“You waitin’ for the bathroom?”
He shuffled back a step or two when I moved closer, tossing my clothes into my bunk.
“Nah, thought I might take a nap too. Wanted to make sure you didn’t mind.”
A laugh burst out of me. “Why would I mind?”
He tapped the bunk across from mine. “Close quarters. I figured you were looking to be by yourself.”
“But you came back here anyway?”
“I got tired of listening to Mo and Murray bicker. They’re always getting snippy.”
“They are, but I’ve seen you scrap with them a time or two. Y’all seem to have become real friends over the last five years. It’s nice.”
“Yeah.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, peering down at me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “For a while there, all we had was each other, our music, and the rusted out passenger van we drove into the ground.”
“Seems like Mo’s parents cuttin’ him off was the best thing that could’ve happened.”
He hummed in agreement. “Sometimes favors come in the form of dick moves. But yeah, he got real hungry real fast without that cushion, and it made the rest of us just as hungry.”
After a beat of silence, Santiago turned around and boosted himself up into his bunk. I was less graceful in my ascent, stepping on the bunk below and flopping into my bed the same way I had the last three nights. If he’d laughed at me, I would have smothered him in his sleep. When I looked across the narrow passage that separated us, his face was impassive as he stared at the ceiling of his bunk.
I laid on my side, eyes drooping, but not quite ready to sleep. As if he felt my gaze, Santiago turned his head, giving me the softest hint of a smile.
“I still can’t believe Diego walked away.” He’d been on my mind a lot over the last few days. I hadn’t known him well, but he’d always been kind to me and made me laugh. I worried for him, wondering what could have made him quit the band. Well, not wondering so much as dreading the reason it almost had to be.
Santiago’s chest rose and fell in a great heave, his hands linked on his stomach. “He’s in rehab, Maeve.”
My dread realized, tears pricked my eyes. I had no idea why. I hadn’t seen Diego in five long years. Nevertheless, I was sorry for him. My chest hurt for Santi too. He had to be worried sick over his brother.
“Was that his idea?” I asked.
“Entirely. None of us had any idea he was having trouble with pills. He…uh, he broke his hand and injured his shoulder a couple years ago. Never healed right, and the pain persisted, definitely more than he ever let on.” He shook his head, groaning so low and deep, I idly wondered if his entire side of the bus shook. “We all party, do stupid shit. Diego’s young, enjoying fame, you know? I never questioned it when he seemed high. I should’ve. That’s my kid brother. I’m supposed to be his protector and look what a shit job I’ve done.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wanted to die. This had nothing to do with me, and here I was, making a silly scene. I swipe the errant drop of saltwater, hoping Santiago hadn’t spotted it and figured me out for the basket case I was.