There wasn’t a huge crowd, much smaller than I’d expected. That added to the private party feeling. The place stunk of stale beer and cheap cologne and rock. The same as any other band room. The bar ran along the right side of the room; the stage at the front, of course. A blond chick sat at the door, looking bored and picking her nails.
A girl walked up on stage. She looked like she wanted to hide away. She giggled and accepted the proposal. People cheered.
I got a whiskey from the bar and knocked it back, waiting for them to finish. I needed to make an impression and it’d be a dick move to call attention to myself in the middle of all that mushy talk. They looked happy, really happy. I bided my time, trying not to fidget or look nervous. I wouldn’t bite my nails. I wouldn’t get out my phone.
Then I spotted Alex, off to the side of the stage, partially hidden. My stomach dropped and my hands shook. I inhaled, a few sharp breaths to steady myself but they didn’t seem to hit my lungs. My chest squeezed so tight, there was no air getting to it. My first impulse was to run. Run far, far away from Alex. It was like being in the same room as the devil, but I could handle this. I had to handle it. There was no retreat. I’d made a promise to Jake, and I couldn’t go back on that now.
Alex walked back on stage.
Then he started playing again. You could tell he’d been a bit ruffled by the interruption. He sucked in his cheeks. He always did that when he was agitated. I knew. I’d devoted so much of myself to studying that man. There wasn’t a mannerism I couldn’t interpret.
He had a new band now. I’d known that, of course. Still, it made my heart contract to see him on stage with those strangers. It should’ve been Jake beside him playing guitar and Pete on bass. But it never would be again.
There were two guys on stage. Alex must be the only guitarist. The other two didn’t seem like they particularly liked him. His sound had changed. Darker, moodier. And far more controlled, like he had to prove something to the world.
I wanted to feel nothing for that man, prancing around the stage like a sleek panther, all muscle and sinew. The only emotion my heart needed was the black hatred I’d cultivated.
Maybe, one day, he’d be brought to justice and he’d pay for his crimes. I wasn’t even sure if that was possible now. The police said there’d been no evidence, not enough to charge him. If it’d been anyone else driving that car, they’d have been breath tested as soon as the accident had been discovered. Not Alex. And now, years later, it was impossible to prove he’d been drinking. If justice couldn’t be served through the legal system, there were other ways. I’d make sure of it.
He finished the song and said something to his band members, then swapped his guitar for an acoustic. The room became quieter as Alex got settled.
Perfect timing.
I stood up, my stacked heels making me tower over most people in the room, and pushed my way to front of the stage. People parted to let me through. One man tried to grab my arse but I turned to him, quelling him with a stare. I’d learnt the hard way how to take care of myself.
Alex didn’t miss a beat in his playing. His gaze seemed to merely scan the room without settling on me but I knew he’d seen me. Not just seen me, but recognised me, and he knew why I was there. That
was a good thing. I hoped it might trigger some remorse in him but any regret now would be too little, too late.
I leant against the foldback speaker, hoping to put him off his game, just a little. To get a reaction out of him.
In the years since I’d last seen him, Alex hadn’t changed much. I didn’t know what I’d been hoping for. Maybe that he’d aged badly. That he’d put on weight or he’d started balding. That would’ve made it so much easier for me but nothing could’ve been further from the truth. He was a man at the peak of his good looks. I’d forgotten how much his eyes smouldered.
If anything, he looked better than ever. He had a wildness to him, something primal and strong. Every single female in the room would be going a bit moist in the panties watching him play, that was for sure. Their faces softened and their bodies heated. I hated his good looks. I hated the way that my body heated when I looked at him.
He sang the slow ballad with a sorrow that would rack a softer woman’s heart. His voice contained lies. He wasn’t a man who knew regret, that’s for sure. Maybe a little bit of a tantrum over not getting his own way but nothing deeper. I could’ve screamed out and told the room that. This man is a fraud. He manipulates people to achieve his own ends.
I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself. An outburst like that would achieve nothing. It’d just make me look like a loon.
After the song finished, the band started up again. Alex gestured to the sound desk. The music became louder. More than a few people in the room watched me and, it seemed, Alex wanted that attention for himself. Let him have it.
The bass pounded through the room, making the floor vibrate and sending shivers through me. Everything about him became charged with a power that made him hard to resist. I checked myself. I wasn’t here for a romantic interlude. Ice cold, that’s what I was. I couldn’t afford to let one lustful thought into my head.
What I’d felt for him had been a childish crush. Nothing more. Childhood was well behind me now. All of that had been stomped out by this man. I’d never forgive and I’d never forget what he’d done to my family.
Not once did Alex look at me, not in that song or the next. But he was more than aware of me, that I knew. His gaze would sweep the room and stop just short of where I was standing. Purposefully.
He might not want to acknowledge me but I’d make damn sure he did.
Dee
I waited for him at the side of stage. I’d nutted out the place and positioned myself so he’d not be able to avoid me. I waited and waited. He took longer to pack up his gear than you’d have thought humanly possible. That made me laugh. I’d put the wind up him. If he wasn’t worried, he’d have swept off stage, leaving someone else to pack up everything but his precious guitars. That’s the kind of guy he was. Instead, he was winding up cords and unplugging pedals.
But it bugged me too. I’d fired myself up for this confrontation. The rush of red-hot anger and need to be icy-cold fought within me. I’d rather punch him, knock him down, kick him with my boots but that was no long-term plan. He’d bruise a little then recover. I’d had other schemes: breaking his hand so he could no longer play guitar, shooting him in the stomach. But they were just anger-fuelled fantasies.
I wanted this to be a slow, lingering revenge. The kind that cut the ground out from under him.
He’d gone to the bar for a drink and some guy chatted to him, a kid with long, stringy hair. It’s not like Alex’d leave his guitars on stage for long, though. He’d want them packed away somewhere safe.