Page 7 of Lick
“Don’t break up my favorite band.”
“Ohmygod.” I shoved the sunglasses back up, frowning hard enough to make my head throb. “Guitarist. He’s the guitarist. That’s where I know him from.”
“Yes. He’s the guitarist for Stage Dive. Well spotted.”
The David Ferris. He’d been on Lauren’s bedroom wall for years. Granted, he had to be the last person I’d expect to wake up with, on a bathroom floor or otherwise. But how the hell could I not have recognized him? “That’s how he could afford the ring.”
“What ring?”
Shuffling farther down in the seat, I fished the monster out of my jeans pocket and brushed off the lint and fluff. The diamond glittered accusingly in the bright light of day.
Lauren started shaking beside me, muffled laughter escaping her lips. “Mother of God, it’s huuuuge!”
“I know.”
“No, seriously.”
“I know.”
“Fuck me. I think I’m about to pee myself,” she squealed, fanning her face and bouncing up and down on the car seat. “Look at it!”
“Lauren, stop. We can’t both be freaking out. That won’t work.”
“Right. Sorry.” She cleared her throat, visibly struggling to get herself back under control. “How much is that even worth?”
“I really don’t want to guess.”
“That. Is. Insane.”
We both stared at my bling in awed silence.
Suddenly Lauren started bopping up and down in her seat again like a kid riding a sugar high. “I know! Let’s sell it and go backpacking in Europe. Hell, we could probably circle the globe a couple of times on that sucker. Imagine it.”
“We can’t,” I said, as tempting as it sounded. “I’ve got to get it back to him somehow. I can’t keep this.”
“Pity.” She grinned. “So, congratulations. You’re married to a rock star.”
I tucked the ring back in my pocket. “Thanks. What the hell am I going to do?”
“I honestly don’t know.” She shook her head at me, her eyes full of wonder. “You’ve exceeded all of my expectations. I wanted you to let your hair down a little. Get a life and give mankind another chance. But this is a whole new level of crazy you’ve ascended to. Do you really have a tattoo?”
“Yes.”
“Of his name?”
I sighed and nodded.
“Where, might I inquire?”
I shut my eyes tight. “My left butt cheek.”
Lauren lost it, laughing so hard that tears started streaming down her face.
Perfect.
CHAPTER THREE
Dad’s cell rang just before midnight. My own had long since been switched off. When the home phone wouldn’t stop ringing, we’d unplugged it from the wall. Twice the police had been by to clear people out of the front yard. Mom had finally taken a sleeping pill and gone to bed. Having her neat, ordered world shot to hell hadn’t gone down so well. Surprisingly, after an initial outburst, Dad had been dealing all right with the situation. I was suitably apologetic and wanted a divorce. He was willing to chalk this one up to hormones or the like. But that all changed when he looked at the screen of his cell.
