Free Rock Dirty (Rock Candy #2) by Virna Depaul Page B

big club like this was going to get famous people (and if Liam’s vacation tanked our band in three months I’d be a lot less famous). The long timers and bartenders or staff who knew how to stay employed were the ones who knew how not to make a big deal out of things.
    We got our drinks and Nikki nodded to a large and comfy white leather bench seat.
    I sat down next to her and pointedly ignored the few women staring my way. For tonight, Tucker Benning was both taken and not talking to the fans. Some nights, you just needed time for yourself, and if Nikki wanted some fun, I was going to give it all I had to give it to her.
    My saucy vixen poured me a shot and I chugged it down, loving the way it burned down my throat and made my gut feel like it was on fire. It was smooth because it was expensive, but it was a fierce tequila and still had that fire that attracted me deep down.
    She took her own shot then quickly poured and downed a second. I tightened my grip just a bit on her knee, an instinctive message to slow down. She stared at me and took a third shot, a clear message to go to hell.
    Fine. I’d just keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t get in too much trouble. Hell, wasn’t that a funny thought, a relationship where Tucker Benning, party animal, was the responsible one. Civilization as we knew it might be collapsing outside. If me being the level-headed guy on a date wasn’t a sign of the end of days, I wasn’t sure what was. Maybe dogs and cats living together.
    Yeah, probably that.
    “It burns in all the best ways,” she said. “But I can say that about you too, baby.”
    “You’re sweet,” I said, lowering my voice to a rumble.
    She held out the bottle. Part of me wanted to meet her unspoken challenge, my pride unwilling to let a little thing like her drink me under the table early on. Part of me wanted to keep up with her shot-for-shot. But a bigger part of me wanted to stay sober so I could protect her. In the end, it wasn’t a difficult choice. I declined the drink.
    “This band? Joe’s right. They do suck,” I said, wincing as the reverb hit deafening levels. God, they were going to kill the amps if they didn’t adjust.
    “You need to get up there. You have the invite.”
    “Huh?” I asked, even as she dragged me to my feet.
    But I didn’t object. I mean, I wanted to be modest, but let’s be honest, with us on hiatus it might be a while before I got on drums and behind a mic again. I usually sang back up. I was no Liam, but I was better than these clowns.
    Nikki shoved the lead singer aside and got to the mic. The crowd must have been both as drunk and tired of these idiots as we were. They cheered just to have anyone else at the mic.
    “Okay guys, get ready. We have Tucker Benning of Point Break ready to beat on the old skins here. So let’s get ready to fucking rumble!” She glared back at the drummer, who wasn’t moving.
    The blue haired bartender yelled out from across the club. “You’ll still get paid but move your ass, amateur.”
    When the guy walked off stage, I slipped behind the drum set. Bastards didn’t even keep it in good condition. That pissed me off. One of the things about being a rocker was that you had to be good to your equipment so that it would be good to you. It was scuffed to hell and the idiot drummer had even tried using duct tape on the legs. I hoped that Sacre Bleu never hired them back. The assholes didn’t deserve it.
    I held the drumsticks over my head and counted down the beat as well as announced the song, a bit of classic Nirvana that even these morons could thrash to. The song blared to life, and I was lost in the moment, my arms burning the effort, my heart hammering with adrenaline, and the sounds of the drums ringing in my ears. This was why I’d started years ago, and this was what I lived for. I had to have this even if Liam full-out left to settle down with Abby. He was so nuts in love lately that I wouldn’t even put it past him. I