Tattered Angel can be found on Amazon here!
Bleeding Dawn
Damaged Saints
“You
can tell a wicked lot about a fella by what he puts on his pizza, so why don’t
we head over to Sal’s and feast. I dunno about the rest of you, but my brain
hurts. All that puzzle solvin’ and hunting’ for clues works up an appetite,”
Zakk remarked as they piled into Riley’s SUV. Dez would have preferred his
Honda Shadow to a cage, especially one with guys he was only just getting to
know, but according to Uncle Max, it still needed work and wasn’t safe to
drive. He’d been adamant about there being some parts too worn down to be
trusted. Dez wasn’t entirely sold on that line of bullshit. His uncle wouldn’t
be above a little fibbing if he thought it would force Dez to spend more time
interacting with the band.
He had to admit, the escape room had been fun.
His original plan, to hang back and observe them, had been blown right out the
water almost as soon as they’d entered the room. Turned out they’d wanted his
input, and not just for him to follow blindly along with what they planned to
do. It was refreshing, not being made to feel like an outsider, never sure if
he truly belonged, or was simply being tolerated until a better option came
along.
“Pizza sounds like an exceptionally good
idea,” Damien said, smacking his lips as he slid into the back seat next to
Dez. “I’ve got a taste for spicy buffalo chicken, bacon, and ranch with blue
cheese crumble. What toppings do you typically partake of?”
“None. Sorry. Hate to break it to you guys,
but I hate pizza and anything that even remotely resembles pizza,” Dez remarked
with a shrug. “But if you guys want to go to Sal’s, that’s cool, you can drop
me off at the music store over on 8th. I could use some new strings
for both my bass and my acoustic. Might as well see if they’ve got a blues
harmonica set since I keep forgetting to pick one up.”
Zakk spun around to peer over the back of his
seat at him. “The fuck? You play the harmonica too? Christ man, is there
anything you can’t play?”
“Lots of things. And I wouldn’t necessarily
call my fumblings with the harmonica playing. More like whining that
occasionally stumbles onto a tune, but I’m learning.”
“Excuse me but, am I the only one who finds it
a bit concerning that he hates pizza?” Damien said. He was staring at Dez like
he’d just claimed to own a flying unicorn. “How can you possibly hate pizza? It
is the most perfect food ever invented. It’s practically a dietician’s
dream with every food group conveniently rolled into one. It’s the universal
food. You can load it up with anything and everything imaginable. Lamb, squid,
any vegetable your heart desires. You can take a culinary tour of the finest cheeses
in the world and have them perfectly assembled on a single crust. Pray tell,
what is there not to like about pizza?”
Dez shrugged again and ran his fingers along
the armrest, contemplating getting out. He got it, he was a freak, and not just
for hating pizza. Wait until they found out about his other food issues.
They were liable to laugh their asses off. Better just rip the band-aid off now
and get it over with in the privacy of the vehicle where there wouldn’t be an
audience to his humiliation.
“Looks, it’s not just pizza I hate. It’s any
food where a whole bunch of stuff is touching, or all mixed up. So, I don’t
really eat soup, or stew or casserole or even a salad unless I can get it
deconstructed,” He replied softly, refusing to look at them. “I um, won’t eat
off a plate or tray that isn’t divided so nothing can drip, flow, or ooze onto
something else. I have issues with textures too. Overripe bananas, tomatoes
that are beginning to get soft and lose their crispness, and bread of any sort
that has collected moisture and feels or tastes damp or the least bit soggy.
I’ve tried eating avocados, but, ick. Needless to say, I don’t eat out much. I
don’t want to make things difficult for the kitchen by asking for everything to
be put in a different bowl and I don’t want people staring at me, so, if you’re
gonna laugh, please go ahead and get it over with.”
“You have not given us a reason to laugh so
why would we?” Damien asked. “Today was about discovering more about each other
and I, for one, am happy you informed us of your aversions so we can avoid any
messy faux pas when we’re on the road. It is not a source of ridicule and
we will not treat it as such.”
“Besides,” Riley added. “My older sister is
the same way. I keep an impressive collection of divided trays for her at my
apartment for whenever she comes to visit. We’ve got deconstructionist cooking
down to an art form and I have to admit, some foods are simply better that
way.”
Dez jerked his attention away from the window
to see the earnest look on both of their faces. When he glanced at Zakk, there
wasn’t the smallest hint of amusement on his face. If anything, he looked
concerned. The moment their eyes met; Zakk raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you
really think we were the kind of assholes who’d give you shit about something
you have no control over?”
Shrugging, Dez wished the thought hadn’t
entered his mind, but it had, and he wasn’t going to lie to them about it.
“It’s happened before.”
“With one of the other bands?” Zakk asked.
“The Saints weren’t bad about it. Mostly I
just went off and did my own thing for meals anyway so it was never a big deal
and if we were eating together I’d just try to find the simplest thing on the
menu or something I could ask to have served separately. There were a few times
when someone made a crack about it or asked if I was gonna be the guy backstage
who asked for nothing but green Skittles, but for the most part, they left it
alone.”
“Which tells me the guys in Carrion didn’t,”
Riley pointed out.
Damn, but he was intuitive as fuck. Dez was left torn between wanting to squirm and wanting
to get lost in the piercingly observant gaze Riley leveled at him.
“Your silence says everything you refuse to,”
Damien chimed in.
“Let’s just say it was the object of much
amusement and a way to liven things up on the road when the guys got bored,”
Dez muttered. God, it still infuriated him to think about. He hated them
knowing just how little consideration his former bandmates had for him. “Look,
I’m gonna catch a cab, okay. Escape room was a lot of fun. You guys are pretty
chill. I hope you get to do Rocktoberfest.”
Pushing on the door got him nowhere and
hitting the button on the lock just resulted in Riley hitting it again. Nothing
happened the second time he tried it, not even the sliding sound of the locking
mechanism moving.
Chuckling, Riley waved a finger at him, like
he was warning a naughty child to behave. “Don’t bother. This thing has child-safety
locks which are currently engaged. Oh, and put your seatbelt on while you’re at
it. We’re going to Unraveled Roses. I think you’ll like it. They specialize in
deconstructed food. My sister and I go out to eat there at least twice a month.
It’s awesome.”
“It really is. Besides, we ain’t done yet.
Let’s fuel up and crash the music store. You’re not the only one with shit they
need to pick up,” Zakk remarked, clicking his seatbelt in place while staring
intently at Dez.
“What?”
“Seatbelt. We don’t need our new singer
smearing himself against the back of the seats if the old lead foot up there
stomps the brakes too hard.”
“It seems we are to have the pleasure of your
company for a few more hours,” Damien added, getting comfortable in his seat,
which prompted Dez to finally do the same. “Good. I find you most intriguing.”
“Okay real talk bro,” Zakk blurted over
Riley’s snarled curse as he pulled away from the curb and into the flow of
congested traffic, honking horns aplenty. “Exactly how many instruments do you
have a handle on? Riley and Damien said somethin’ ‘bout you playing the
bagpipes during a show, and now you're tossing some shit out about the bass and
harmonica, so dish, is that all or are there more?"
“A few,” he admitted, relaxing as the
conversation shifted to the one subject he could talk about all day. “I’m
proficient enough on a keyboard to accompany most people, but I lack the
passion for playing it onstage. I don’t like the traditional piano though. I’m
too soft of a touch on it. If I have to focus on how much pressure to apply,
then I can’t give myself over to it completely.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see
Damien nodding in agreement. “I share that sentiment, much to the dismay of my
grandfather who was an aficionado. He attempted, many times, to teach me when I
was younger, but try as I might, I never could get the handle on it. Despite
several growth spurts, my hands remained too small to pull off most of the
sharps.”
“I can reach ‘em, but I’m shit at hitting them
hard enough, especially during a changeover. Don’t think hand size has
anything to do with it though. I’ve been told my hands are extra-large, and I
still can’t coax the proper sound outta those notes.”
Zakk snorted, Damien dissolved into a fit of
laughter in the backseat, while Riley coughed, hard, punctuated by a bit of
swerving as the car hit a pothole in the road. A blaring horn to the left of
them signaled another driver’s displeasure as Riley fumbled with his drink,
nearly choking as he tried to gulp the water down. Dez tried not to join them
in their laughter and failed miserably.
“Unless I miss my guess, their minds have just
toppled over a slippery slope leading straight to the gutter,” Damien cackled.
“Are you sure they don’t live there?” Dez asked, trying, and failing, to get himself under control.
“Even
if we don’t get into Rocktoberfest, I want to see what we can create together.
Though, after playing that, I’m hoping we do get in. The crowd response alone
is bound to be epic.”
“Indeed. It is devastating enough to be
sidelined, but knowing it came at the hands of a deceitful weasel I considered
a friend is nearly intolerable. Thank you for seeing the potential in this
union. For the first time in months, I have something to look forward to.”
Damien admitted.
“After those try-outs and the way it seemed
like you were gonna turn us down, we sat talking about the future of the band
and none of us were sure we could go through another round of auditions again.”
Riley added, “I’m glad we don’t have to.”
“My ears offer their most sincere
appreciation,” Damien remarked.
“Mine too,” Riley added. “But more than that,
I’m thanking you. After hearing you play, we all agreed that you were the guy
we wanted and if we couldn’t make that happen then it was time to shift from
being on hiatus to calling ourselves defunct and leaving it at that.”
Now that stopped him cold, and Dez shifted his
gaze from the neon lights of the city to the two men watching him intently.
“Why?”
“For the same reason, you said yes,” Riley
replied. “When you play, it isn’t a bunch of notes and chords, it’s emotion.
You play from your heart and I know we can write some amazing shit together.”
“Just to be clear, we are aiming more
towards the amazing end of the spectrum than the shit one?” Dez quipped, and
damn, but Riley looked adorable choking back laughter while his cheeks got
redder and redder.
“Without question,” Damien remarked,
snickering.
“Dare I ask what’s so funny?” Zakk asked as he
stepped into the room carrying a tray of food.
“Just another dose of Dez humor,” Riley
replied.
“Well, in that case, dish, don’t leave me out
in the cold.”
Even as he was talking, he was passing out
food. A heaping plate of chicken nachos topped with green chilies, shredded
cheese, and sour cream for Damien, and a similar plate for Riley, sans the sour
cream. What Zakk passed him, though, sent a surge of warmth and acceptance
through Dez unlike any he’d experienced with his previous two bands.
“Where in the world did you find this?” Dez
asked as he picked up the colorful divided plate Zakk had thoughtfully arranged
his food on. Chips in one compartment, shredded chicken in another, cheese in
the third, cubed, rather than melted, and diced tomatoes in their own smaller
compartment. Even the lime wedges had been carefully placed in a small,
matching bowl that sat among the chips, keeping the juice away from everything.
“At a shop down on third, in the arts
district. I got a set of four. A lady there makes them. You should check it
out. She’s got some awesome colors. I’ve got her card. Remind me to give it to
you before you go.”
“Thanks, man…this is…thank you.”
It was too small a phrase for a gesture that
meant so much, but nothing else came to mind. To his right, Riley scooped the
first bite into his mouth, licking sauce from his lips with a look of absolute
bliss on his face, while Zakk poured four shot glasses of Tequila.
“A toast to Dez for being a complete badass,”
Zakk said when he was done.
A chorus of ‘hell yeah’ went up as they raised
their glasses to him, making him blush a little as he raised his glass too,
before throwing it back and sucking on the lime to kill the burn. Damn, it was
good, but what was better was the camaraderie and feeling of being appreciated
despite not feeling like he’d done much of anything, yet. He planned to,
though. Especially now that Riley had planted that little seed in the back of
his mind about writing together.
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