Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2)

Saints Astray (Santa Olivia #2) Page 40

“Mmm. Okay.”

Ten minutes later there was a knock at the door that grew to a steady, insistent pounding. “Oy! Mystery Girls! C’mon!”

“Okay, okay!” Loup called, buttoning her undone shirt. “Jesus!”

It was Donny Fairbrook with a silver bucket of ice. “C’mon!” he said impatiently. “We finally got rid of Geordie and we’ve got loads of champers. Time to celebrate, right?” He looked past her at Pilar sitting on the rumpled bed, sliding her shoes on and trying unsuccessfully to look demure. His eyes narrowed. “What were you up to, eh?”

“Unpacking,” Loup said.

He looked at her disheveled hair, then back at Pilar. “Nah. Nah. Oh, hell, no! Tell me it ain’t so.”

“Sorry.” Pilar gave up on demure. “I talked to Mr. Jones. I didn’t think we were on duty until tomorrow.”

“You aren’t,” Donny said mournfully. “We just wanted to celebrate, see? I got the extra ice myself and everything.”

“We can celebrate,” Loup said, feeling sorry for him.

“Yeah, it’s just…” He sighed. “Never mind.” He brushed the sleeve of Loup’s white shirt with his free hand. “You don’t have to dress all bodyguard formal, you know. It’s rock and roll, eh?” His gaze lingered on her throat. “Pretty necklace, though. It looks nice on you.”

“Um… thanks.”

“Ohmigod,” Pilar said. “I know that look.”

Loup winced. “So do I.”

He tore his gaze away. “Huh?”

“Welcome to the one-in-a-hundred club,” Pilar said with resignation.

They celebrated anyway. The other two band members took the news better when Donny blurted it out.

“Oh, yeah? You’re into each other?” Randall nodded, bangs flopping. “That’s cool, that’s cool. Sorry, man,” he added to Donny.

“So you all knew about this?” Pilar asked.

They exchanged glances. Charlie grinned. “That Donny had a thing for Mystery Girl? Yeah, of course.”

Donny sighed. “Ah, fuck me.” He swigged from a champagne bottle. “Don’t tell Geordie. He thinks it was all about the fans and PR.”

“Okay,” Loup said gently. “I hope that part works out.”

“Oh, it will.” He gave her another mournful look. “We even came up with an idea for a set of special security togs for you. It’s gonna look hot as hell onstage.”

“Hey, do you ever dress up for each other?” Charlie asked cheerfully. “Y’know, play a scene?”

“No,” Loup said. “No schoolgirl shit, okay?”

Pilar eyed her. “Well…”

“Pilar!”

“I’m just saying I could see it,” she said, unrepentant. “Remember the cabin boy outfit? You’d look pretty damn cute in a schoolgirl costume, baby.”

Donny groaned and put his head in his hands.

“We are so being unprofessional,” Loup said.

“Yeah, well.” Pilar shrugged. “We’re not on duty and we just found out half the reason we got this job is because the drummer has a mad crush on you. I’m not exactly feeling real professional at the moment.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Oh, please don’t.” Randall gave Loup one of his yearning looks through his bangs. “We’re handled and managed within an inch of our lives, and all I ever wanted is to be an artist, you know? It’s so hard when no one’s real. You two, you seem really real. I wish you wouldn’t change. It’s nice, you know?”

“I guess.”

“It is.” Charlie draped himself over Pilar. “Can I watch?” he asked hopefully. “If you talk her into the schoolgirl costume?”

She shoved him. “No.”

“Ow!” He fell onto his ass and giggled. “What are you, some kind of secret agent bodyguard?”

“Yep.”

He lay on his back and sighed, making a languid motion with one hand. “We need girls. More girls. Girls who aren’t into girls.”

“No, we don’t,” Randall said laconically. “You get us in enough trouble as it is, Charlie. Give it a rest for a day.” He tossed his bangs out of his eyes. “Are we cool, girls?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Loup glanced at Pilar. “Does this feel weirdly familiar?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “It’s a little like hanging out with the Santitos.”

Donny lifted his head. “Is that a band?”

“No.” Loup smiled wistfully. “Just the kids at the orphanage where we grew up. Well, mostly grew up. Kids in the street gangs used to tease us, call us the Santitos, the Little Saints of Santa Olivia.”

“You grew up in an orphanage?”

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “My mom died when I was ten. I never knew my father. Only that he deserted from the army and he was different.”

Charlie sat up and poured more champagne into Pilar’s glass. “What about you?”

“Lost my mom when I was little.” She sipped. “My dad when I was nine. My aunt and uncle took me in for a while, then they pawned me off on the church.”

“In Canada, right?” Randall asked.

Loup and Pilar exchanged a glance.

“No,” Pilar said. “You know, I’m really tired of lying about this, and we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together. We’re from America, not Canada. A little town in Texas, near the border. Ever watch the news? It was one of the Outposts.”

Two of them shook their heads, but Randall nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I watch late at night when I can’t sleep. I seen that bit. But I thought no one ever got out except that one big guy they interviewed.”

“Miguel Garza,” Loup said.

“You know him?”

“Sure. We used to box together. He was my sparring partner.”

He whistled. “Holy shit! You two, you have a story, eh?”

“Loup has a story,” Pilar said. “I’m just the sexy sidekick.”

Randall pushed back his bangs and grinned. “That’s for fucking sure.”

“Hey, man.” Donny looked sidelong at him. “What are you thinkin’, huh?”

“I dunno. Might be material for a song.” He considered. “Maybe an album. Paranoia and the military industrial complex versus the will of the individual. Something dark, edgy, you know?”

“Epic?”

“Yeah, maybe epic.”

“We could make a statement.”

“A statement, yeah.”

They regarded the girls. “Tell us more,” Randall said. “I wanna hear the whole story. How’d you get out?”

Loup’s stomach growled. “Okay. But I need food.”

They ordered room service and more champagne, consuming copious amounts of both and adding to the clutter and disarray in the suite while Loup and Pilar told their story, climaxing in Loup’s epic boxing match against the genetically modified John Johnson and her subsequent imprisonment by the U.S. Army, and ending with their separate escapes through the smugglers’ tunnel.

“Damn.” Donny gazed at Loup with helpless fascination. “So they totally tortured you, eh? That’s bollocks!”

“I don’t know if it was torture, exactly. It’s not like they were yanking out my fingernails or anything.”

Pilar passed over her unfinished plate of steak au poivre and pommes frites without being asked. “Baby, it was so torture. They tried starving you!”

“Yeah. That sucked.”

Randall ran a hand through his hair, tossing his bangs with an absentminded flick of his head. “Damn,” he said. “Damn. I’m gonna have to think about this for a while.”

“We should probably go. You guys have a gig tomorrow.” Pilar glanced around the room. “I’ll call room service to have them pick up all this stuff. Do you want me to put the trays in the hallway?”

“Oh, leave it.” Charlie waved a half-empty champagne bottle. “They’ll get it in the morning.”

“Are you kidding?” she said with asperity. “It’s disgusting in here. And you guys…” She wrinkled her nose. “You could really use showers.”

“It’s our manly essence!” he protested. “It’s natural.”

“No,” Loup said. “You kind of stink. I get that you want to be all dark and edgy, but dirty and smelly isn’t cutting it.”

Randall laughed.

“What?” Pilar picked up the phone. “You wanted real, you’re getting real.”

“It’s cool. I like it.”

They hauled the room service trays and half a dozen empty champagne bottles into the hallway before saying good night and beating a retreat.

“Poor Donny,” Pilar whispered in the hotel room, fiddling with Loup’s collar. “You’re not…?”

“No!”

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.” Loup slid her hands around Pilar’s waist, then lower, pulling her hard against her, kissing her with commendable thoroughness. “Want me to show you how very, very sure I am?”

“Yeah.” Pilar smiled, breathless and happy. “You know, I hate being interrupted, but I love unfinished business.”

“Mm-hmm.”

TWENTY-NINE

Their first official gig with the band was an unpublicized concert at a small, popular, and exceedingly dingy venue in Camden Town, a bohemian section of the city. Geordie Davies sighed with deep misgivings when they arrived.

“Are you boys sure about this?”

“Yeah.” Randall tossed his bangs and smiled sweetly. “C’mon, man! We’ll play the big stadiums for the screaming teens all next month. Let us try out some of the harder-edged stuff I’m working on for a real music crowd.” He slid a sideways glance at Loup and Pilar. “I’ve got a lot of new ideas coming.”