Page 114 of Silver Sweet

Without him, there is no music.

26

TOM COBALT

“What is this?” I sniff the green smoothie. My head weighs ten hundred pounds, and my throat is raw. Last night can only be referred to as a night of epic fuckups. Never in my most reckless imagination did I predict our mid-album celebration would morph into Phoenix meetingRJ…and thenBeckett…and thenCharlie.

Wincing ignites pain in my skull, but I can’t stop myself.

What’s worse: I can’t even remember the entire night. But fragments keep invading my head—and none of them aregood.

Eliot pushes the glass closer to my lips. “Just drink it, brother.”

I’m on his gothic, canopied bed wearing my clothes from last night. Eliot has on navy-blue joggers since it’s still morning. I slump on the mound of pillows against the ornate headboard. The deep red walls and thick, heavy bedding of his room are more soothing than the squawk of Mister Feathers. I literally cannot take a cockatoo laughing in my face right now.

I massage my temple and contemplate sipping the smoothie. I’m positive I passed out on Eliot’s bed. Oh…no. I freeze as another memory crashes into me.

Strong arms curled under my legs and around my back. I faintly remember resting my head against a firm chest. No.No. Nooooo.My heart beats rapidly.

“You let Phoenix St. Pierrecarry me?” I’m going to die. Like right now. Where the fuck do I find a casket at this precious hour?

Eliot props a shoulder on his bedpost, a plate in one hand. “Sadly, that wasn’t me. But had I been there, I would’ve been able to recount the experience in vivid detail for you.”

“Oh great.” I smear a hand down my face. “Had you been there,youwould’ve carried me, right?” I already know the answer.

“I would’ve insisted he carry you over the threshold?—”

“Noooo,” I groan and bang my head backward, scrunching my eyes closed. “I think I’m going to die.”

“Not without me, brother.” I feel his grin before I open one eye and see his mouth curving upward.

I’d smile back if I weren’t mid-wince again. “Dude.He carried me into abedroom.Like this is stuff I would rather witness and not be black-out for.” I daze at Eliot’s raven painting, but I’m just imagining Phoenix bringing me here, laying me on this bed. Did he adjust the pillow behind my neck? Was he the one who put a washcloth on my forehead? Because I woke up with a damp cloth soaking under my bicep. Like it’d slipped off me in the middle of the night.

Eliot stares knowingly at me. His deep blue eyes glitter.

So I just say, “I bet he was hot.”

“Beckett did say he was persistent.”

I nod a ton. “That is hot.” I think about this. “I mean, I bet he had to convince Beckett and Charlie to carry me. Beckett would’ve wanted to bring me inside himself.” Eliot agrees, and we’re both thankful Beckett didn’t try to lift me. Of course he could’ve. His whole job is hoisting bodies in the fucking air,but last thing he needs is to accidentally sustain a back injury because I was too drunk to make it home on two feet.

Charlie might actually kill me if I inadvertently hurt Beckett to that extent. One time Eliot and I singed Beckett’s leg with a firecracker, and the way Charlie reacted, you’d think we chopped off his ankle. Granted, he wastwelve.But still.

Plate in his grasp, Eliot climbs onto the bed, stepping to the center. Then he plops down beside me, crosses his ankles, and turns his head to meet my eyes. “Mistake number one was not inviting me to your night out. It would’ve never been forgetful.”

His quip lifts my mouth into a smile. “Agreed. Life is more memorable with you at my side.” I swish the smoothie and slip him an apology with my eyes. “I know you wanted to meet my drummer before Charlie.”

“It’s not the first time Charlie has beat me to the punch,” Eliot says. “It will be the last time, though.” He seems unconcerned.

“Yeah, it definitely will be,” I say with all my confidence, then I frown at a thought. “Hey, you don’t think they were spying on me?”

“Luna and I didn’t tell anyone you’d be at The Trench,” Eliot says. “It was probably just a coincidence.”

Yeah. Eliot and Luna were the only ones I informed. I’d been afraid Charlie and Beckett would ruin my night and show up unannounced to pester my drummer. Looks like that happened anyway.

Eliot pushes the plate of bacon and toast toward me. No eggs, since he knows I will vomit at the first sight of them when I’m hungover. He’s too good to me. Truly. I take a piece of bacon and chew it slowly. “Does the apartment smell like murdered pig?”

“A bit. Ben usually doesn’t care if we cook meat.”