Live Wire--The Dirt

11. A Single, Sudden Realization

Wren remained huddled close to Nikki's chest, and he found peace in the fact that her breathing had steadied over the hours she had been in his arms. With Tommy at his new girlfriend's house, the door locked to avoid a re-entering of a certain intruder, and no plans of gathering the band at the apartment, there was no reason to move away from the moment the pair shared. Despite their argument and anger from earlier, through her fear and his concern, they both felt safe and at ease.

So much time had passed, yet it only felt as if he had held her for a few measly minutes. Each second her tears fell against his skin, Nikki mourned for her, and each breath he took which held her scent refueled the aching in his chest. His fingers trailed her face as they pushed away stray strands of her hair, and he tried not to acknowledge the shiver that slithered down her spine at his gentle touch. Her own hands clung to Nikki's torso and wrapped around his back. He wanted to lean over and press his lips against her head, or to take her chin in between his fingers, lift her eyes to his, and connect their lips.

He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, yet he fought that feeling with every ounce of his being.

He should have kissed her.

Ever since that day, Nikki couldn't shake that single realization from his head. Show after show had passed, nearly as quickly as the weeks between them, yet nothing between Wren and Nikki changed other than their more controlled tempers. They continued with their banter, refrained from growing angry with one another, but avoided being alone together as if their lives depended on it. In a way, Nikki figured, they do. Being near one another without the barrier of Tommy, Mick, or Vince meant being vulnerable, being vulnerable meant talking, talking meant sharing their feelings, and neither Wren nor Nikki knew what sharing their feelings meant.

"You want a bump?" Vince asked the sullen bassist as the band sat in a half-circle, red leather booth beneath the dull lights of the Rainbow Bar. Nikki folded his lips into his mouth and chewed anxiously on his bottom gums. His arms were stretched out in front of him and rested against the glass that covered the velvet red table cloth.

"Nah," Nikki sighed as he glanced from his vacant stare at a mirror on the second floor that looked out over the bar.

"What? You're still letting that argument with Wren keep you from having some fun?" Vince huffed as he leaned back in the booth and stretched his arms out, one behind Tommy and the other hanging on the back of the seat. "That was like, a fucking month ago almost!"

"No," Nikki snapped at Vince just as Tommy nudged Nikki with his elbow. "I'm just not going to do it with her around, and you two shouldn't either," he continued while tossing a glare in Tommy and Vince's direction.

"Loosen up dude," Tommy said as he put a reassuring hand on Nikki's shoulder. "We just played the Troubadour! Wren's got us set up to play the Santa Monica Civic Center next weekend! At least have another drink." Not being one to turn down alcohol, Nikki quickly snatched two Jack and cokes from a cocktail waitress and tossed them back with a laugh.

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A tinge of jealousy overcame Wren as she surveyed the scene below. From where she stood on the second floor of the Rainbow behind a two-way mirror, Wren could see Mötley Crüe drinking, laughing, and smiling while she sat above the party and waited for a meeting with her great-uncle. She longed to be with the band, somewhere sitting between Tommy in his light blue button up shirt and leather jacket, and Nikki with his white t-shirt and leather vest, chuckling along with Mick as they all probably made fun of the deeply cut neck line of Vince's baseball t-shirt. Wren watched as Nikki shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pushed the red table cloth further away from him only to quickly regain the laughter and banter being shared among his bandmates.