10. Iggy

CHAPTER 10

Iggy

" W ant a ride?" Lars asks.

"Nah, man, it's cool. I'm going to my mom's, not the hotel."

"I don't mind the drive," Lars says. "Get in."

I wonder if Lars is going to give me a pep talk. Tonight was the worst show I've ever played, and that's including the dive bars I used to play at seventeen. Every single time I glanced at Marley on the other side of the stage, the conversation with my mother kept replaying in the back of my mind. I should've walked over and grabbed his dick, played up the usual tactics for the crowd, but I couldn't bring myself to.

Lars grabs two bottles of water from the fridge in the limo, tossing one of them and hitting me square in the chest. "You gonna tell me what has your panties in a twist or what?"

I glance at him and have an urge to wipe the smug smirk from his pretty boy face. After the show, he asked if we could have a chat and right now, I regret agreeing. "I'm sitting here with you instead of fuckin' a groupie. Guess that could cause my panties, as you put it, to find themselves twisted up."

Lars laughs as he takes a sip of his water, his crazy cat eyes almost penetrating through the lies falling effortlessly past of my lips. "I'm corrected. It's not what, but who. I doubt you're fucking any groupie at the moment." Lars leans back and throws his arms over the leather seat. I want to kick his ass, but I'm sure that would cause him to harass me more than he already is. "I suppose it could be a groupie. If that's the case, make sure Kaye runs a background check. "

"Relax, I'm not going head over heels for a groupie. I'm sure some of them are lovely, but not one has held my attention longer than a night."

Lars remains silent and his arrogant lips tip up into a smile.

"What are you smirking at?"

"The fact you didn't deny someone's crawled up your ass and is fuckin' you up. So, who is it?" Lars leans forward, lowering his voice. "I've been where you're at. I know it's fuckin' scary as hell. Sometimes our own stubbornness can derail our happiness. All I know, man, is if someone burrows themselves this deep under your skin, they're worth everything. You don't have to tell me the specifics, but whatever is going on with you is bleeding into the band. It's for sure fuckin' up your friendship with Marley, so you need to get it under control."

My body tenses up at hearing Marley's name. "Marley and I are fine. You don't need to worry about us."

"You see, I have to worry about you and Marley, because the band is my family and I give a fuck about you. Just because I fuck Cain, it doesn't mean you and Mar don't mean a lot to me. My love for the two of you and Kaye is as strong as my love for Cain and Billie. It's just different. Listen, man, I've already lost more than most people in my life, and I don't plan on losing any more. I want you to know I'm here. I'll always be fuckin' here for you."

I nod my head. A lump lodges in my throat, making it hard to swallow, hindering me from formulating a coherent sentence. Why the fuck did Lars have to go and tug at my heartstrings? I want to say something nice, tell Lars he means a lot to me too, because he does. "Things with Marley and I will calm down."

Lars narrows his eyes and leans forward. "How long have you been in love with him?"

"What?" I shout before lowering my voice. "Whoa, love? With whom?"

"You very well know who I'm talking about, Iggy," Lars says. "How long have you been in love with Marley?"

I am glad Lars isn't sleeping at my mom's house. I'm not sure I could handle his raised eyebrows and knowing stares. When we were getting started and barely had fifty dollars between the four of us, we'd crash at my childhood home every chance we got. We also slept at my aunt's, cousins', and anyone else my mother could call and guilt-trip into giving us floor space for the night.

"Love ya, bro, but my mom will get worried if we don't get inside." I open the limousine door and walk away from Lars. I sit on the porch and light a smoke, thinking I've probably loved Marley Banks longer than I realized.