MY FAVORITE BAND, page 112
By the time she’s done, she’s screaming at me and I’m a little concerned she might toss that red wine in my face when I can’t really figure out what the fuck I’ve done to even warrant this conversation in the first place.
I take in what she said, really trying to hear her and fix this, and I decide to just pick it all apart point by point. “Why don’t you trust her?”
“Oh my God,” she says, her voice all high-pitched and squealy. “Oh my God. That’s where you start? With her? Not with the fact that you’ve changed? Not with the whiskey or the auction or the long-distance thing? But her?”
I exhale loudly with frustration. “Babe, I was just going chronologically.”
“Don’t you babe me. What’s going on with you two?”
My brows dip down. “Nothing’s going on.”
“Nothing?” She purses her lips and sets her hands on her hips. “Then why does she look at you like she knows how you taste?”
“Jesus Christ, Sierra. Are you fucking kidding me?” I set my glass on the conference table and rest my palms on the cool faux wood before I lean my weight down and stare at the space between my hands. I draw in a deep breath through my nose and exhale through my mouth.
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
I glance up at her. No, she doesn’t.
“Nothing is going on between Ruby and me. I’m playing bass for her band until she can find a replacement. That’s it.”
“So you’re not attracted to her, then?” she asks, and she purses her lips again.
Hmm.
How to answer this one honestly...
“Of course I’m attracted to her, but that’s meaningless.” Her face falls a little at my admission. Apparently just blurting it out was how I decided to deal with it in the moment. “I’m attracted to fucking Gisele Bundchen, too, but you don’t see Tom Brady in here accusing me of having sex with her. Just like you’re attracted to Mark Ashton and Bradley Cooper and JJ Watt.”
“That’s different,” she spits at me.
“How?”
“Because those aren’t people who I’m ever going to randomly find myself working in close quarters with on a daily basis while you’re out of town.” She slaps a palm on the table to make her point, and then she drains the rest of her red wine.
Thank God. At least it’s not coming at me now.
I drain the rest of my whiskey, too, just in case she gets any crazy ideas about tossing that at me instead.
“Look, Sierra,” I say calmly after I set my empty glass on the table. “I love you. I’m committed to you. I want a life with you.”
“Do you?” she asks softly, her eyes catching mine.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’ve been together forever and everyone around you is getting married and having babies and when the hell is it ever going to be my turn? I know you’re a commitment-phobe or whatever the hell they call it because of your parents but WE. ARE. NOT. THEM.” She’s rambling and sweet Jesus I can’t have this conversation right now. For one thing, we’ve already had it hundreds of times, but for another thing, I don’t have the time.
I glance at my watch.
I don’t even have time to harp on the fact that she just said my turn, not our turn. That’s something I can worry about later.
“I have to go,” I finally say.
I know it’s the absolute worst thing I can say right now, but it’s the fact of the matter. I can’t have this conversation when I’m obligated to be on that stage raising money for a women’s shelter. I signed a contract saying I’d be there, and as much as I want to finish this conversation with my girlfriend, I made a promise.
I start toward the door.
“If you walk out that door right now, Kane Keller, you can kiss what we have goodbye,” she says softly.
I grind my teeth together as I try to hold my shit together right now. “Are you seriously issuing ultimatums when you know I don’t have a choice?”
She lifts both shoulders and purses her lips as if to say yup.
“Let me just get this straight, then, since we’re not on some sitcom. Are you saying what we have is over-over if I walk through the door? Or are we just on a break?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Over-over. No ambiguity about it.”
I set my hand on the doorknob as I clench my jaw for a beat. “If you want to throw away seven years over a stupid fight, be my guest. I have to go.”
And with those as my parting words, I open the door and walk through it, my hands shaking and my heart breaking at the words Sierra and I just exchanged.
CHAPTER 6
I stride back toward the ballroom and look around wildly for anyone from MFB. I have less than a minute to get to the conference room, and my heart is racing.
Shit.
All four of them are clear across the room, and I start to make my way in that direction to explain what just happened when I feel a hand on my arm, halting my progress.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I turn around and my eyes meet the dark, mysterious ones belonging to Ruby Ray.
My shoulders drop in relief that I found a familiar face. She looks worried. About me.
I give her a quick hug because of that feeling of relief that courses through me in seeing someone who cares. “No, I’m not.” My voice sounds like I’ve been gargling marbles. I clear my throat. “Sierra won’t be bidding on me. Can you let the MFB guys know? Tell them to have Kylie win me and I’ll give my date to her and Dax.”
“Are you allowed to do that?” she asks.
I shrug. “I have no idea. I honestly don’t care at this point.”
“What happened?”
I close my eyes for a beat and draw in a breath, surprised at how calm I feel when I open my eyes and they meet hers. Her brows are crinkled in concern, and her fingers are still gripping my arm. “We can talk about it later. I need to get to the meeting room.”
Her fingers flex and tighten for just a beat where they are on my forearm. “Okay. Break a leg, Keller. We’ll help you raise a lot of money.”
It still hasn’t hit me that Sierra just ended our relationship. I haven’t had a chance to think past my anger over the words she spewed at me. I don’t have a minute to dwell on the fact that tomorrow, she won’t be the one I turn to first thing in the morning, or if she’s not in my bed with me, she won’t be the one I call when I wake up.
I can think about that stuff later.
For now, my eyes focus on Ruby for another second longer even though I really need to go. I want to hug her again, want to feel some bit of comfort from someone who cares after what just happened...but I’m out of time.
“Thanks,” I say with a half a smile before I run off to meet Reese and the other bachelors.
Security is posted outside the door where we’re supposed to meet, but they flag me right through. Reese’s hand is on her hip and she glares a little when I walk through the door.
“Okay, now that we’re all here,” she says pointedly, and I feel like a child who’s getting scolded, “I’ll be giving you each a number and when you get to the stage, you’ll see that same number on a piece of tape on the ground. Stand directly on it and that’ll be the order in which you are auctioned off. We’ll be starting with Tommy and ending with Rob. The auctioneer will take it from there, but when you’re announced, take your mark at the front of the stage and stand there and look pretty and charming. Have some stage presence. Do whatever it is you rock stars do to get the crowd into it.”
I play bass guitar. That’s how I get the crowd into it. I play songs they’ve memorized, and I sometimes whip my semi-long hair around while I play, depending on the beat of the song. I didn’t even realize I do that until the first time I watched a video of us playing.
She picks up some small notecards from the table and starts moving through the room, passing a card out to each of us. “These are your numbers. When it’s your turn, you’ll take the mark at center stage. There will be a short introduction. The auctioneer will handle the bids, and then you sit at your numbered chair at the back of the stage while the next bachelor is auctioned off. At the close of the auction, we will call you back behind the stage, where you will meet the person who placed the highest bid on you, and then that person will pay, she or he will get an envelope, and you’ll be off on your adventure. Any final questions or concerns before we get started?”
“Can we donate our date to someone else?” I ask.
Reese glances over at me from across the room where she’s handing Sebastian his number. “No. These dates are non-transferrable and only for the bachelor and whoever wins the auction.”
Fantastic. So I’ll probably be taking Kylie, a nearly nine-month pregnant woman who also happens to be my manager and is married to one of my best friends, on a romantic date somewhere in Los Angeles.
Once she has handed everyone their numbers—I’m number four—we line up. I’m between Sebastian Cresswell and Dane Cooper, and as much as I’ve tried, I just don’t feel like I fit in at this event.
Except...
Maybe I do.
As of about three minutes ago, I guess I’m single, which makes me an actual bachelor for this bachelor auction.
And since I’m the bassist in a band that sells out stadiums with tickets coming in at a premium, I suppose I fit the rock star requirement.
I run a hand through my longish hair to slick it back into place. I always liked it a little longer, but Sierra loved when I cut it almost six years ago after a prank gone wrong.
I finally decided to grow it back out sometime last summer. I guess it wasn’t so much a conscious decision as I just stopped getting it cut.
And now, I feel like myself again. Finally, after six years, part of my identity has returned, and it’s almost like a security blanket as I take a deep breath and hold my head high. Reese opens the door and we walk toward the ballroom.
My heart pounds wildly in my chest with each step I take. Nerves zip up and down my spine, but I don’t allow them to project outward. Instead, I breathe through it, drawing another deeply cleansing breath in through my nose and letting it out through my mouth. I push down those nerves and refuse to let them show—just like every time I walk out onto a stage with my band.
I don’t look out at the audience until I’ve taken my mark, and when I do, I find a sea of familiar faces. Many are other musicians, mostly band members related to the bachelors up on this stage. Other faces belong to the staff and crew at Ashmark, and still others are from different facets of the entertainment industry.
“And here are our bachelors for the first annual Ashmark Date with a Rock Star gala!” The emcee is enthusiastic, and the crowd goes wild. I stand with my hands folded in front of my dick, something I learned in a college psychology class is a habit men do to project confidence when they feel vulnerable or insecure.
I guess my professor was correct on that one.
“Our first bachelor of the evening is Mr. Tommy Stevenson.” The emcee casually gestures to the mark on the floor, and Tommy moves forward to stand on it. “Tommy is the lead singer of Capital Kingsmen, the rock band out of West Virginia known for such hits as ‘I’m Getting Some’ and ‘Shoving My Way Through.’ He’s looking for a woman who doesn’t take herself too seriously, has a great laugh, and doesn’t mind his penchant for tequila. The opening bid for a date with Tommy is five hundred dollars, and now I will hand it over to our auctioneer, Mr. Frederick Lansbury.”
Good old Freddie takes the stage. “Can I get five hundred for Tommy Stevenson, that’s five hundred, five hundred right there.” He points to a lady at a table in the middle of the room who’s holding up a small paddle with a number on it. “I’ve got five hundred, can I hear six? I’ve got five hundred can I get a six?” He chants quickly in a way that calls the audience to respond, and he talks fast to create pressure to make sure the bidders don’t miss out on a date with Tommy.
The bid goes up to six, and I tune out the auctioneer as I glance around the room. I find the MFB table, and Sierra is noticeably missing from it. Kylie offers me a little wave, as does Emily. There are two empty chairs at the table...presumably one for me and one for Sierra.
Nerves clatter around in my chest as the auctioneer’s speed seems to intensify. The bid for Tommy is up to eighteen hundred and there’s no way in hell I’m winning Mark’s special bonus for whoever brings in the most money. At this point I don’t even care. I just want this to be over.
I continue scanning the room, and when I get nearly to the back, my eyes find hers.
Ruby’s.
She smiles at me, and the nerves rattling around my chest seem to settle.
My lips twitch, but I don’t smile back. I’m maintaining my serious façade up here.
But I can’t deny that she affected me even from across the damn room.
CHAPTER 7
As each paddle flies up in the air, my heart pounds harder and harder. First it’s just in my chest. Then when the auctioneer says Tommy is sold for forty-nine hundred, it starts pounding in my head. He retreats from his mark and takes a seat at the back of the stage in the row of chairs lined up for those of us who’ve already been sold.
It sounds so primitive. We’ve been sold.
It’s for charity, I remind myself.
It’s for a good cause.
There’s a reason I’m here. There’s a reason I had so much whiskey in an attempt to calm my nerves.
It didn’t work. Maybe it would have if Sierra hadn’t just broke up with me.
Seven years gone.
Down the drain.
Maybe I wasn’t ready for marriage, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready for a future with her.
I push her out of my head and focus on standing in the damn bright lights. My hands itch to tug at my tie as it feels tighter and tighter around my neck, like it’s about to cut off my breathing, like I can’t even swallow it’s so damn tight, but I force myself to resist.
The second bachelor, Brandon York, takes the mark next to Fred. When he goes for eight thousand, my heart pounds in my ears. I’m fourth. I’m only one away.
When Sebastian Cresswell brings in a little over ten grand, the pounding pulses in my neck.
And then it’s my turn.
“Next up we have Mr. Kane Keller!” I step forward to the mark, my heart racing erratically and pounding through my entire body. My hands are shaking. My knees are shaking. Fuck, even my hair is shaking. I can see it out of the corner of my eyes.
I smile out over the crowd and do my best not to squint at the bright lights shining directly in my eyes.
I want to fold my arms across my chest or hold them in front of my crotch or tug at my tie again, but instead I take the time to button my tuxedo jacket and casually smooth a hand over my hair while the emcee introduces me.
“Kane is a bass guitarist hailing from San Diego. When he’s not playing for MFB, also known as My Favorite Band, he can be found putting his computer science degree to good use by mixing sounds to add to tracks post-production. He’s currently playing bass for upcoming sensation Ruby Ray while MFB takes a short hiatus, and he’s looking for someone who is driven, kind, and sexy.”
Sierra and I wrote my introduction together. She asked me for three words that describe her, and driven, kind, and sexy were what sprang immediately to mind.
I used my introduction to compliment my girlfriend.
I’m not so sure about kind anymore. Not after the hurtful words she just said to me. Not after she fucking ended things with me seconds before this humiliating event.
The auctioneer takes over. “The opening bid for Mr. Keller is five hundred. Can I get five hundred?” Kylie raises her paddle, and I focus on smiling. “I’ve got five hundred, can I hear six? I’ve got five hundred can I get a six?”
Emily raises her paddle.
“I’ve got six, can I hear seven?”
The auctioneer and I both see a paddle go up toward the back of the room along with a voice yelling, “Fifteen hundred!”
It’s Ruby.
I told her about the bonus from Mark and asked her to help MFB raise my bid. A weird sensation washes over me. I wish it was about more than just helping drive up my bid. I can’t help but wonder what sort of trouble we’d get into if she won the date.
Because she’s nothing but trouble. That’s a fact I’m sure of.
“There’s fifteen hundred, can I get eighteen?” Once the bids cross over a thousand, he moves them up faster.
I track the bidders like I’m watching a tennis match, and eighteen hundred turns to two thousand.
Kylie’s paddle goes up. Emily’s paddle. Amber’s and Zoey’s.
Ruby’s again.
Two thousand turns to twenty-five hundred and then three thousand. My tie is still choking me and I’m uncomfortable as fuck, but I feel less and less insecure up here as the women bid for a date with me, and it’s not just Ruby and the women I know well through the men in my band. There are others in the room bidding, too, and the thought makes me feel a little like a superhero who can conquer anything.
It’s possible that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I feel less like I need to fold my hands over my dick and more like I can take on Lex Luthor or the Joker or Voldemort.
Three thousand becomes four, and then five, and then six.
That’s when Emily and Amber bow out.
Zoey bows out at seven thousand.
I can’t help but wonder whether Sierra left with the money in her purse to really fuck me over or if that’s the money Kylie is using to bid.
It becomes a war between Kylie and Ruby.
