Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover #2)(70)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Until Cort started to sing that first line, “Josie’s on a vacation far away . . .” and the crowd roared in recognition night after night.

Drake had tried to pretend that was all it was. Josie was gone on vacation and she’d be back any day now. And unlike the song, he had no interest in hooking up with some other woman in her absence. Truth be told, he didn’t have much interest in anything.

The bar was pretty quiet tonight and even a Poison song couldn’t pull the crowd in if there was no crowd. It was a Sunday and hot as hell. Most smart people were staying in places that had efficient air-conditioning, unlike this place. Of course, heat and cold didn’t affect him. Because he was a freakin’ vampire.

There had been plenty of times over the decades he’d wished he were still human. But none more so than now. He wished he could go find Josie Lynn as a simple man and tell her he loved her and he’d grow old with her. He knew that was all she wanted. A man she could trust and love.

Instead she’d met the ultimate bad boy. Her worst nightmare.

And what had he really been thinking anyway? That he’d eventually tell her and she’d just say, “Oh, you’re a creature of the night. Groovy.”

The band finished up the Poison song, and Cort announced they were going to take a short break.

“You were behind on that whole song,” Cort said as he walked past him.

Drake yanked the plug out of his guitar and glared at his friend. “Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was that idiot on drums.”

Cort raised his hands to show he didn’t want to fight. “I’m not making an issue about it. I’m just letting you know, that’s all. I know your head hasn’t been in the music lately. And I get it. But don’t blame Benny because your heart is in shreds. He may not exactly be a genius but he’s adequate, and you know we needed to do something to guarantee he keeps quiet about our special blood-drinking habit. So don’t piss him off.”

Cort’s words irritated Drake even more. It was bad enough his heart was in shreds, he didn’t need everyone knowing it. He set his guitar on the stand with more force than necessary—honestly, with more force than he would have ever used before this funk. His guitars used to be his babies. They used to be enough.

Oh shit, he was turning into one of those musicians who thought of their guitars as women. Or compared them to women.

This sucked.

“Dude, you okay?”

Oh no. He couldn’t take this again. What was coming now was even worse than Cort and the other band guys’ sympathy.

“I’m really sorry, Drake. I should have thought before I spoke, man. But you know how I am.” Saxon gave him one of his puppy-dog looks.

Saxon had tried to apologize at least a dozen times and in a dozen different ways since Josie Lynn had taken off, and while Drake appreciated that his friend regretted what happened, he couldn’t take any more acts of contrition. He felt shitty enough without worrying about Saxon feeling shitty, too.

“Listen, Saxon, it is what it is. I’ll get over it, but honestly I don’t want to talk about it or her. It isn’t helping.”

Saxon nodded, then his eyes widened and he opened his mouth, and Drake knew more words of regret were coming, despite what Drake had just said.

“Seriously, Saxon, I can’t take any more of your apologies. I know you are sorry. Enough said about it.”

“But—”

“No,” Drake said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to hear it. Please.”

“But really,” Saxon said, the woeful puppy-dog look gone. Now he was grinning. From ear to ear. “You’re gonna wanna hear this.”

Drake stared at him, wondering why he was even questioning his odd little friend’s behavior. Saxon was nothing if not odd.

“Really. You are going to want to hear what I have to say.”

Drake sighed. Clearly he was going to have to suffer through another explanation so he could finally just go get a shot and hopefully numb himself a little.

“Josie Lynn is here.”

Drake stared at Saxon, not understanding. How was this an apology? In fact, this was the worst—and perhaps cruelest—attempt to help yet.

“Alright, Saxon, thanks for trying to cheer me up. In your own weird way.”

“No, man, for real.” Saxon pointed past him.

Drake turned, still expecting this to be another of Saxon’s cockamamie ways of trying to help. But then he froze.

Josie Lynn stood near the doorway, looking a little nervous. Looking absolutely gorgeous.

He blinked, sure he must be imagining her. It had been almost three weeks. He’d given up on the idea of seeing her ever again. But there she was.

Her gaze met his and even through in the hazy, dimly lit bar, he could see how amazingly blue her eyes were. Her hair was loose, framing her face in waves of golden honey.

He didn’t realize he was walking down from the stage and going to her until he was only a foot away. Close enough to touch. To kiss.

“Hi,” was all he could think to say. His brain mush.

“Hi,” she said back.

“I—I’ve . . .”

What the hell did he say? He didn’t know. He considered himself a pretty clever, articulate guy, but nothing came to him. Nothing that would be good enough to make her stay.

“So rumor has it you’re a vampire. Is that true, or are you and your friends all nuts?”

He stared at her, then cleared his throat nervously. Neither answer was a good one. Neither answer was going to get her to stay. But he wasn’t going to lie to her. Not like the other men she’d been with.

“I’m a vampire.”

She nodded, not looking particularly surprised. Nor did she look like she planned to run.

“I thought that was probably the case.”

Wow, she was taking this way too well.

“So why aren’t you running in terror?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “Because I’ve had time to think about it. And because you said I could trust you. And because I figured if you really wanted to hurt me, you had ample opportunity, both the night we blacked out and the night after.”

“True.”

She nodded, and he was afraid this was all she’d come for, to validate the truth, and he couldn’t let her leave.

“I’ve—I’ve missed you.” Okay, that sounded kind of lame, but it was out and he wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t giving her the opportunity to leave. Not yet. “I’ve thought about you every day—well, you know, every night. I’ve wanted to try to contact you.”