Xane shook his head. ‘She doesn’t really. I just made that up. She’s got at least ten years on you, though. What are you, about eighteen?’
‘Twenty,’ she replied indignantly. ‘And I’m Daniella … Dani.’ Out of habit she stuck out her hand for him to shake.
‘Hi, Daniella.’ Xane accepted her hand. His grip was pleasantly firm, although the bite of his numerous claw rings made it faintly disturbing. ‘I’m –’
‘– Xane Geist,’ she finished for him. ‘Lead singer and mastermind behind Black Halo.’
A flash of something – not appreciation, pain perhaps – swept across the surface of his eyes. He blinked, and it was gone. ‘– Alex. My real name is Alexander.’
She’d read that in an interview. ‘So do I call you Xane or Alex?’
‘Whichever.’ He released her hand. ‘I can’t say that I much care for either at the minute. Call me what the hell you like. Dickhead, was it, you were thinking a minute ago?’
‘I’ll stick with Xane.’ It’s what popped into her head complete with an exclamation mark every time she looked at him. How could one man be so bloody scrumptious? Despite him sitting close enough to touch her, he still seemed a fraction unreal.
‘Um, aren’t your claws kind of uncomfortable?’
Xane looked at the rings, as though he barely remembered he was wearing them. ‘Most girls like them.’
‘Why? Don’t they scratch?’
He gave her a significant look. ‘I think that’s the point.’
‘You wear a lot of jewellery.’
‘Yup.’ He began stripping it off. Claw rings first. He dropped them with a thunka-thunk onto the coffee table. Numerous leather wrist straps followed. That left a stud through his tongue, in addition to the lip ring, and hoops in his ears and through one eyebrow. His throat lay surprisingly bare, now he’d removed the collar.
‘So, Dani – if you’re not here to shag me, what are you here for?’
Dani opened her mouth to begin, but Xane cut her off.
‘And don’t mention the lift again. You were hanging out backstage with a stolen pass around your neck. So you were there for a reason. Were you after one of the other guys?’
‘No.’
Xane eyed her cautiously. ‘Journalist? If you’re a journalist, I’m going to kick your butt out of here.’ He slammed his empty glass down on the table, making Dani jump.
‘I’m not a journalist.’ She shrank back against the sofa. Would anyone admit to being, after that threat? ‘I was backstage because of my friend Ginny. She really wanted to meet you guys. She got us into your dressing room, but I wanted to watch the gig, so I left her there and … and then I walked into you.’
‘I see.’ Xane dispensed with his glass in favour of swigging straight from the bottle. ‘So, you left your mate in my dressing room. Isn’t she going to wonder where you’ve gone?’
‘Um … probably not. I mean, no. We arranged to meet back at our hotel.’
‘But you’re not at your hotel.’
Yes, she had actually noticed that.
‘I doubt she is either. If she’s met one of your band mates, then she’ll probably be a while, right?’
Xane gave a half-hearted little shrug. ‘Is she hot?’
‘Um, I guess so.’ Dani got out her phone, thinking maybe she ought to call Ginny anyway, just in case she had arrived at the hotel and was wondering where she’d got to.
‘Don’t,’ Xane advised. ‘Ash’ll be shagging her.’
‘He might not be.’
Xane shook his head. ‘No, really, he will be. She’s wearing a short skirt, right? She’s in our dressing room, and she’s not like you. He’s probably had her forwards, backwards and is working on upside down by now.’
She couldn’t help laughing at the notion. ‘Does he have a set routine, then, for giving girls … what they want?’
‘How would I know? I’m a bloke.’
Good point.
‘Could I have a cup of tea, please?’
He shook his head. ‘No teabags.’
‘Oh! OK!’
‘Nip out and get some, if you like.’
‘Are you asking me to leave?’
‘Didn’t say that, did I? Stay if you want. I figure, at least if you’re here I won’t be found dead tomorrow face down in a pool of my own vomit.’
‘Oh!’ Dani shuffled forward to the edge of her seat in alarm. Was that likely? Given the way he was knocking back vodka as though it were spring water, maybe it was, and perhaps a supply run wasn’t such a bad idea. He was going to need a boat-load of painkillers in the morning. ‘Shouldn’t you slow down?’
‘I told you my aim was to get wankered.’
Why did he need to?
‘I know, but if you continue to gulp spirits like that you’re going to hurt your throat. Think of your tour dates. You’re going to disappoint a lot of people if you can’t sing.’
‘I disappoint a lot of people even when I do.’ A dark shadow swept across his face. Even through the make-up she recognised the tightening around his eyes. The set of his mouth turned particularly sour.
‘Did something happen?’ she asked. ‘I mean on stage. ’Cause the gig ended early, didn’t it?’
There was no way Black Halo had been on stage more than twenty minutes. What was that – four songs, maybe? Also, she knew enough about bands to realise they hung out together post show, talked to the fans, that sort of stuff. Xane had whisked her out of the building as fast as possible. He hadn’t even gone back to the dressing room. But it was the conversation with Ash on the way out that was the real giveaway.
‘Yeah, it ended early.’
She waited patiently a moment for Xane to elaborate, but he had his mouth glued around the bottle top again.
‘Want to talk about it? Did someone muck things up? Fry your sound boards, or something?’
Xane spluttered vodka over his lap and the nearby furnishings. ‘You think I’m swilling this muck because of a blown amp?’
‘I don’t know.’ She folded her hands into her lap. ‘I guess not. What did happen, then?’
‘We split up. It’s over. Black Halo are no more.’ He stood and gave a theatrical bow, though it was obvious his mockery was a mask.
‘No.’ Dani shook her head, praying that if she denied it then it wouldn’t be real. But his speedy getaway, not wanting to speak to Ash, and now the vodka – it all added up. So did the soul-deep hurt swimming in his eyes.
‘Dead. Dead. Dead,’ he reiterated, as if he were stabbing the remains just to make sure.
Still, for a moment her brain refused to process the message. Then her stomach lurched. The vodka she’d swallowed burned a second time as it clawed its way back up her throat. She didn’t vomit, but a cold sort of emptiness filled her chest, making it painful to fill her lungs. It couldn’t … it couldn’t be. Why would they split? They were doing so well. Their popularity and fan base grew with each successive album. She couldn’t quite make herself ask him the reason. Everyone knew he was the band’s driving force, and that he lived and breathed it. It was that passion,