Bad Blood

Part Ten

Chapter Ten

They'd practised for ten days solid, hammering various tunes out repeating, changing, repeating, tweaking. It was both exhausting and absolutely exhilarating for Nancy. To be part of a band, to sing, and now to play – even though her presence wasn't welcomed in its entirety.

Josh clapped loudly as they finished for the day.

"Guys, I've got a bar tab, courtesy of the record label at the bar down the road. Food, drinks, a thank you for your hard work."

Riker was the only one not grinning, Nancy noticed that straight away, "what's this a sweetener for?"

Chris groaned, clapping him on the back, "come on, Rike, you are always like SO suspicious!"

But Nancy spotted Josh's face flush, "Josh?"

Her question made everyone turn to look at the manager, and he sighed, "it's not a sweetener, for anything. But there are a few things that may change."

Riker slammed shut his guitar case, "I fucking knew it Josh, they've got us jumping through fucking hoops as it is, changing our line up, adding a fucking keyboard...what more could they want?"

Nancy felt the lance of pain at the way he threw her presence into the mix, he'd never accept her, instead she would always be there because he allowed it, and resented the fuck out of it, and her. Taking a deep breath, she held her head high and walked out of the room. There was no way she was standing there to be insulted...again. It was getting a little boring now.

She'd made it maybe half a block before the sounds of feet on the pavement made her stop, slowing she saw Chris jogging up to her.

"Don't walk out. We have a free bar."

She shook her head, "I don't need this bullshit Chris. Sorry you got the short straw having to chase after me, but that wasn't why I walked out. I am spending every day with a band who hates me, I am not spending a night too."

"We don't hate you, none of us."

Nancy laughed out loud, "really?"

He groaned, "Riker is all talk. I've never seen him so dedicated, so determined. He's enjoying all this, he may not look it, but a playing Riker is a happy Riker. He's good. He'll never admit it, but then no one said he wasn't stubborn. Come on. You are part of this."

"What was the stinger?"

Chris blushed, "we've got a few magazine interviews planned, and you and Riker are on that chat show on a Friday night. We play, you two get interviewed."

Riker took his third whisky and threw it down his throat, out of fucking control. Why did he keep biting? He'd accepted that she was working with them, accepted that she was in his life in some capacity. Yet the moment things went wrong, he was throwing it in her face, and that wasn't fair, and it wasn't him. He had to sort this out, she looked genuinely upset as she'd walked out of practice, and a few months ago that would've pleased him, but now, he just felt like a twat. She was sat across the room with Josh and Chris fawning over her, leaving him as the outsider, and as much as he hated it, he knew they were right to comfort her, make her feel included.

It was that fucking kiss, he told himself, that had unsettled him, He hadn't ever experienced a complete loss of control like he had with her, and it absolutely terrified him, especially as the thought of a repeat made him hot all over.

But it couldn't happen. They were in a band together, even if they didn't hate each other. They had to get along and mixing business with pleasure never worked that was well known.