Playing Dirty (Stargazer #2)(30)
Author: Jennifer Echols

He shouldn’t have messed around with her last night. He’d pushed her too far too fast, and now she was shying away. Which was smart of her, because they couldn’t be together. Right.

Owen walked onto the porch without knocking, with Martin behind him. Owen snatched the copy of Clinical Immunology and Allergy Today away from Quentin and threw it at Martin, then collapsed into a wicker chair that creaked under his weight. Martin sat in the chair on Quentin’s other side. Quentin was cornered.

“I didn’t break Rule Three,” Quentin said automatically.

“We know Erin will go ballistic,” Owen assured him. “This is just between us.”

“I still didn’t break Rule Three,” Quentin insisted.

Owen and Martin looked at each other.

“Don’t I look frustrated?” Quentin asked.

“But you will break Rule Three,” Martin said.

“No I won’t.” Quentin rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “There are only eight more days until the concert.”

Owen said, “We want you to go ahead and cut her loose.”

Quentin had to tread carefully here, so they wouldn’t see his desperation. “I can’t do that,” he reasoned. “There wouldn’t be any way to explain it to her without telling her that the thing between Erin and me is fake.”

Martin suggested, “You could get back with Erin early.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Owen said quickly.

Reaching for his beer, Quentin gave Owen a knowing glance. Owen looked appropriately uncomfortable. Aha. Ammunition. But Quentin didn’t want this kind of ammunition. If Owen fell for Erin, the band would be in a world of trouble. That’s what Rule Two was for. Maybe Quentin should get back with Erin early.

And lose Sarah? No way.

After a sip of beer, Quentin said, “Me, neither. If Erin switches around too much, the press will lose interest. It has to be a big deal when she changes hands.”

Owen looked like the wind had died out of his sails. Martin wasn’t as intent as Owen, anyway. Martin had never been a plotter, and it was almost impossible to get him involved in band politics when he was on a drug binge.

“I don’t know what y’all are complaining about,” Quentin went on. “There’s nothing in Rule Three that says Sarah can’t hang around. For that matter, there’s nothing in the rule that says I can’t cop a feel.”

Owen woke up to this challenge. “The spirit of the rule is that you can’t cop a feel.”

“We’ve never established separation of power,” Quentin pointed out, “so you don’t have the right to interpret the spirit of the rule.”

“Logically,” Martin said, “you wrote the rule, Q, so you’re legislative. Someone else gets to be judicial.”

“I’m appointing myself executive,” Quentin told them, “and I’m ordering you the hell out of my Fortress of Solitude!”

Owen and Martin looked at each other again, and Owen motioned with his head. They got up and left with more creaking of wicker.

“Martin!” Quentin called after them. “Clinical Immunology and Allergy Today.” He caught the magazine as it flew through the doorway at him.

He downed the rest of his beer, then thumbed back through the magazine. And looked at his watch. He wondered what time Sarah would show up tomorrow night, where they’d go, and whether they’d get some privacy. If privacy wasn’t part of Sarah’s plan, maybe Quentin could convince her.

Martin reappeared on the porch and pulled a chair close to Quentin for a conference.

Quentin said, “I didn’t break Rule Three in the last five minutes.”

Martin fixed Quentin with an anxious stare, eyes owlish behind the thick glasses. “I didn’t try to explain it to Owen,” he said low, “but I’ve changed my mind since he and I talked about it this morning. I don’t think you should cut Sarah loose.”

“That makes two of us.”

“I think you should keep her closer,” Martin said ominously. “Or go with her to buy a gun, like she wanted.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Quentin laughed. “You saw her at the firing range. She nearly capped me while I was standing next to her. I’ve never seen anyone’s hands shake that badly, outside the hospital.”

“She’s scared because she thinks she’ll have to use that gun.”

Quentin bit the bait. “On whom?”

“Nine Lives. You know he’s in jail for assault.”

Quentin could see that Martin was genuinely concerned for Sarah. But heroin made Martin paranoid. “You don’t know that it was assault on Sarah,” Quentin said. “Why would Nine Lives have assaulted her? It wasn’t a lovers’ quarrel. She said she didn’t have sex with him.”

“You say she’s not having sex with you, either, and look at you. Completely whipped. She’s been here three days and you’re about to implode. She was down there—what’d she say?—months and months.”

Quentin saw Martin’s point. But he still thought Martin was blowing the issue out of proportion. “It’s a good thing Nine Lives is safe in a Brazilian prison.”

“That guy has more money than the four of us put together,” Martin said. “How long do you think he’ll stay in a Brazilian prison?”

Quentin started to protest, but Martin put up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re so caught up in your games, like that shit you pulled with Rachel today, that you’re not paying attention. I know I’ve got my problems, Q, but at least I’m paying attention. Sarah needs to feel like someone’s got her back, and she’s not getting that from you.”

Martin rose to leave. He paused in the doorway to say, “She has a fresh three-inch scar under her chin, Q. She really wanted that gun.”

Martin’s words were still echoing in Quentin’s head the next morning. She really wanted that gun. And Quentin wanted to find out why she wanted it. A little revenge wouldn’t hurt, either, for the phone to Owen’s nose and the jar of garam masala broken on the floor. His hired car had driven him to the Galleria, and he’d sweet-talked the hotel desk clerk, a fan, into giving him a key card.

Sarah’s room was dark and, not surprisingly after the way she’d treated him yesterday, cold. The bathtub was dry, so she hadn’t taken a shower that morning. He felt a flash of worry for her, which justified scanning her room and checking out her closet. Everything was in neat order. Nothing was wrong.