Chapter 29 Big key
His brow furrows. “I know you’re not a bed hopper, Shia. I’m just taking care of my best friend, it’s written in the rules if I remember correctly.”
“You’re version of them or mine?” I grin. I can’t stay mad with him for long.
He presses his lips together again, suppressing his own grin. “Mine.”
The guard hands Natte his beer.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the beer from him, but not taking his eyes off mine.
He turns his head, his face inches from mine. The protective "big brother" vibe hasn't left.
"Is that right? You finding this funny at my expense, Shia?"
"A little bit," I admit, my voice dropping an octave. "It makes you seem... human. Not just the rock star everyone was crying over an hour ago."
Natte’s expression softens at the mention of the show. His hand, which had been resting on my back, lifts up to rest lightly on my shoulder, his thumb tracing the edge of my velvet waistcoat against my bare skin.
"Tonight was difficult for me," he says quietly, leaning closer so only I can hear him over the thumping bass of the club. "I don't think I could have gotten through 'Down to You' if I hadn't known you were standing right there in the wings. I could feel you watching me."
My heart does a slow, heavy roll in my chest. "You were incredible, Natte. Bonny would have been so proud. The way the crowd sang back... it was like he was there."
Natte looks down at his beer, his thumb still moving rhythmically against my skin. "He was. But when I’m up there, it’s easy to get lost in the noise. Having you here... it grounds me. It reminds me of who I am when the lights go down. Just the guy who used to steal your sandwiches and get in trouble for breaking your dad's fence."
I laugh at the memories. "You were a menace. You still are, honestly. Especially with this protective streak you've developed."
He grins then, a real, lopsided Natte grin. "Someone has to be. Look at you, Shia. You’re wearing a waistcoat with nothing under it and trousers that look like they were painted on. You’re a walking heart attack. I’m doing the public a service by keeping them at a distance."
"I’m working!" I protest, though my face is burning. "And besides, I have a boyfriend. I’m perfectly safe."
The mention of Will my fake boyfriend makes Natte’s thumb on my shoulder pause for a fraction of a second. His gaze shifts, momentarily losing its playfulness. "Right. Will. The guy who isn't here."
"He’s busy, Natte. He has his own career."
"I know, I know," Natte says, his tone turning a bit clipped. He takes another long pull of his beer and shifts his position at the counter. He doesn't move away. "I just don't like the idea of you being on this concert tour, surrounded by guys like that and those vultures over at the bar, without someone actually looking out for you."
"I have Garry. I have the guards. I have you," I point out.
"You have me," he repeats. He leans in even closer. "And don't you forget it. If anyone bothers you anyone at all you don't wait for Garry. You come straight to me. Rules are rules, Shia."
"Your rules," I remind him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"The only ones that matter tonight," he whispers.
For a moment, the club around us fades away.
“Come and sit with me,” Natte says holding out his hand for me to take.
I stare into his eyes for a long moment. “Okay.” I take his hand. “See you guys later,” I say to the guard I've been chatting with and Gary.
Natte leads me over to a booth already filled with Matt, Dennis, Sam, Steve. I can see a group of girls hanging nearby, and I feel the hard stares I earn from them because Natte is holding my hand. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable.
Natte ushers me into the booth first, next to Dennis, and sits beside me trapping me in. I put my drink down on the table and my bag on the floor beside my feet.
“You enjoy the show?” Dennis asks me.
“I did,” I smile. “It was amazing.”
“You’re looking very beautiful tonight, Shia,” Matt smiles across the table at me.
“Thank you,” I flush feeling a little shy.
I don’t know what it is about Matt, but he has this ability to make me feel like I’m a fifteen year old girl. I think he has that effect on most women. And I don’t even fancy him, it’s so totally weird. Maybe it’s his patter that does it. It always feels like there’s a hidden agenda behind what he’s saying.
A lot like Natte in that respect. But I get the impression Matt's hidden meaning when directed at me is a lot dirtier than Natte’s.
Natte shifts around in his seat, pressing his leg up against mine and puts his arm around the back of the seat behind me. I see Matt's eyes flicker in his direction, and he grins. Big brother Natte is back, and I get the distinct feeling that Matt is enjoying winding him up with me.
Then, Dennis bangs a fist on the table, breaking the spell. "Oi! Natte! Stop hogging the girl and pass the tequila. We’re celebrating a sold out show, not hosting a private therapy session!"
Natte blinks, pulling back just enough to let the air back into my lungs, but he keeps his arm firmly around me. "Shut up, Dennis. I’m busy."
"Busy being a grouch," Dennis cackles, pouring shots for the table. "Come on, Shia. Drink up. You’re part of the circus now."
Natte reaches for a shot glass, handing it to me before taking one for himself. He clinks his glass against mine, his eyes never leaving my face. "To being lost together," he says.
"To being found," I reply softly. Natte settles back, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a little, marking his territory in a room full of people who want a piece of him. And despite my annoyance at his "big brother" act, as I sit there tucked under his wing, I’ve never felt more protected or more confused in my entire life.
“Well you assholes are boring the shit out of me, barring you of course Shia.” Matt flashes a toothy smile at me again as he climbs out of the booth, stepping over Sam, jumping to the floor. “I’m off to go pick a skirt up for the night.”
“Is there ever a time when you’re not horny?” Steve asks him.
Matt looks at him like this is the most ridiculous question he’s ever been asked.
“Nope,” he grins. “I’m like a horny horse, always on the heat for new pussy.”
Natte splutters out a laugh. I have to hold one back myself.
“Did you actually just refer to yourself as a horny horse?” Natte asks, still laughing.
“Hell yeah! And don’t you go all prim on me, ass face, because I know for a fact you’ve been referred
to your dick as a Big Key on many occasion.”