“I was just leaving Trevor’s house, let me give you a ride.” I know if I tell her no, she’ll insist.
“That would be great, I’d really appreciate it.” We both head over to where she’s parked and I slide in when she unlocks the door. “Is the gang still hanging out?”
We buckle up before she answers. “Nah, Jet was the first to leave and then Lucas and Abby left soon after. I wanted to help Trevor and Mrs. C clean up before I left. There’s always so many dishes when we’re there.”
“Mrs. C is the sweetest woman I’ve ever met. She really loves all of you guys so much.”
“You know she’s my aunt, right?” When I nod, she continues. “When my dad went to prison, my mom and I moved in with Trevor and his mom for a few years. One of the reasons Trevor and I are so close. He’s more like my brother than my cousin. Sorry, I’m rambling. I’m sure you know all of this already.” She gets quiet and for some reason I think something else is bothering her.
“Is everything okay, Willow? I only ask because sometimes I feel like whenever I’m around it’s uncomfortable for all of you. Am I right?”
She fidgets a little in her seat and with her body language I don’t need her to answer. For whatever reason, she’s uncomfortable.
“We all love you, Quinn. We all think of you as our sister more than our boss.” Oh, I sense a “but” coming. She doesn’t continue until she pulls into my driveway. Shutting off the car, she turns towards me, resting her leg on the seat. “It’s just that Jet gets upset whenever we mention your name.”
Gluttony
“Gluttony is an emotional escape, a sign something is eating us.”
Peter De Vries
10
JET
Memories of a fucked-up kind have been coming back to me like a vengeance ever since my meltdown yesterday. If there was a way for me to cut open my brain and cleanse it until it was pure, white, and clean, I would. Unfortunately, there’s no cure for what plagues me. Just a constant misery that reminds me of where I came from and what I’ve done.
I startle when there’s a knock on the door, but there’s only one person it could be. I call out, “Come in.”
The door opens, and my savior’s standing there holding a tray filled with everything breakfast and a pot of coffee. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, Mack.”
“No reason to thank me, boy. This will always be your room whenever you need it.” Placing the tray on the table beside me, he turns to leave.
“Mack, will this feeling ever go away?” His heavy sigh speaks volumes, more than his words ever could.
“The only one who can answer that question is you. Not me. No one would be happier to see you set your demons free, but you need help. Someone you can talk to who can forgive you for what you’ve done to survive. God knows you can’t forgive yourself. Hell, start with everyone in the band. You’d be surprised how freeing it could be to confide in your friends who love you regardless or in spite of your past. No one carries your burden quite like you do, boy. Only you can torture yourself so harshly.”
I know he’s right. Lucas told me the exact same thing. But, cutting myself open and confiding in Trevor and Willow just seems impossible. Besides, not even a shrink, priest, or whoever I decide to tell won’t heal my soul. And I truly think that’s what hurts more than my psyche ever did. I’ve been broken for so long now that I don’t know how to truly live.
“After I eat and clean up, I’ll be out there to help you,” I say. “I’ll be leaving at the end of the week again and I won’t be back for several months. So I’m going to help you out as much as I can between now and then.”
“Suit yourself. I never refuse good help. You know you’re spoiling me for all the idiots who will come after you.” When he stands in front of me, he grabs my nape and says, “They say blood is thicker than water, but I call bullshit. You ain’t my blood but you’re my son, boy. Never forget it.” Letting go, he turns and walks out the door.
It takes everything I am to hold back my emotions that are swirling around like a storm inside of me. This is the first time he’s ever called me his son and it overrides all the fake “I love you’s” that have been force-fed to me over the years.
What a heavy discussion this has been first thing in the morning. Now I need to get my ass up and prove to the man that I’m worthy of that title.
There’s something I find therapeutic about taking dirty dishes from the dining room, loading them up in the industrial dishwasher, and restocking them in neat stacks. If only my life could be run through that dishwasher and come out clean.
The day flies by and I decide to go back to my place once my shift is over. I can’t hide in my old room forever, and just knowing that it’s still there after all these years is comforting.
I’m hot, sweaty, and in desperate need of a shower. Kicking off my shoes, I start stripping the second I walk through the door. Tearing off my damp shirt, I send it flying across the living room. Next come my pants as I trip and stumble while hopping on one leg. It would have been so much easier if I had sat down to pull them off, but my mind is focused on the cool water sluicing down my overheated skin.
Turning on the water, I set it on the coldest setting and pull the knob before stepping in. The rush of cold hitting my chest causes me to suck in a breath. I’m gasping for air as I duck my head under the showerhead. It’s ten times worse than the brain freeze you get when eating ice cream too fast. With a pounding heart, and clenched fists, I stay there for as long as I can stand it before adding the hot water to the mix. Trembling takes over and I hold on to the wall in front of me for support.
Once my body adjusts to the temperature, I grab my body wash and shower off all the sweat and grime of the last few days. Never taking for granted what it feels like to go weeks without bathing when I lived on the streets. It’s a feeling I’ll never forget, as long as I live.
After closing the water, I towel dry and throw on an old beat-up concert Tee and a pair of track shorts. There’s no closet full of suits, fancy clothes, and expensive footwear in this apartment. Clean clothes are all I need to feel grounded.
Grabbing my guitar, notebook, and pen, I sit down to put my thoughts to paper. Being vulnerable and raw is the best time for me to write some more music. Lucas would like our second album to be a collaboration of songs by all of us, so no time like the present.
I lived my life as if I’m silent
Buried in the darkness of my soul
Like a child without a voice
Screaming on deaf ears
Why isn’t anyone listening?
Can’t you hear my cries?
Or do you look away
My pain too much to bear
QUINN
“Jet gets upset whenever we mention your name.”
I’m not sure why this sentence has stripped me of all resolve, but it sure as hell did. It’s devastating to know that he feels this way when all I’ve tried to do is be his friend. I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does. Why the hell do I care if one arrogant musician doesn’t like me? I’ve worked with hundreds of them over the years.
Unfortunately, this knowledge sets the tone for the rest of the tour. It won’t be easy pretending like I don’t know about this revelation, making our working relationship unbearable. After helping Jet with the nuts and bolts of the charity concert, I really hoped he’d realize I was on his side. That we were both working together for a grand venture and a wonderful cause.
I could tell the minute Willow spilled the beans she regretted it, but it was too late to take back. She tried covering for him by mentioning he’d had a bad childhood. Nothing I haven’t heard before, but I’m beginning to think excuses are like assholes. Everyone has one.
Besides, I’ve known a lot of people who have had a hard life but they don’t act like idiots like he does. Ugh, it’s so damn frustrating just knowing in a few days we’re going to be stuffed together like a bunch of sardines again. I don’t have
a choice and I’m not a quitter, so I’ll finish what I started. When it’s time to walk away, I will. No looking back.
When my phone rings, I’m tempted to ignore it. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone, until I notice it’s Caleb’s number. With trembling hands, I swipe. “Hi Caleb, I’d like to apologize for calling you yesterday.”
“Well, I apologize for hanging up on you, so now we’re even. Look, I’m not going to pull any punches. I have good news and bad news. What would you like first?”
Is he kidding me? “Give me the bad news first. Save the best for last.”
“I just knew you’d want the worst first. Okay, so the whole idea of a huge benefit concert is out of the question. The backers want a new album as soon as possible to keep the momentum going. You know the deal, that leads to another tour and the circle is complete. That’s the bad news, but the good news is if The Sinful Seven agree to do one more month on the road, all the proceeds will go to the homeless, in the city they’re performing in. And the backers will find the bands to perform in each city. Which takes some of the pressure off of you and the band. You can all concentrate on the venue and the concert. Is this satisfactory?”
“If it were just me, I’d say go for it, but I really need to run it by the band. It’s a great plan, but it’s not exactly Jet’s vision. Give me until the end of the day and I’ll give you their answer. Thanks for everything, Caleb. It’s more than I expected, really.”
“Good, I’m glad we could come up with something solid so all parties could benefit. Once I have your answer, we can get the ball rolling if they agree.” We say our goodbyes and before I get ready to run out the door, I contemplate calling a meeting. Since it entails the band, I need to have them all in the same room and not one-on-one.
As much as I hate to contact Jet directly, I feel the need to reach out since this started with his vision. Taking a deep breath, I start a text, delete, and start again.
Me: I just received a call from Caleb. Since this concerns the band, is there somewhere we can meet?
I stare at my phone waiting for his answer. When it doesn’t come immediately, I’m ready to text Lucas. No need—just as I finish that thought, the phone rings in my sweaty palm. I should have known he’d want to talk.
“Why do we need a meeting? The band already agreed, so what’s this all about?” He’s agitated and I knew he would be. Now I want to talk face-to-face instead of on the phone.
“It’s complicated. We should get together and talk about it, is all.”
“Is the answer a yes or no, Quinn? It really doesn’t get any easier than that. Seriously.” An unintelligible swear comes through the phone. Now I’m getting angry.
“Out of courtesy, I texted you first since it was your idea, but I’m seconds away from texting Lucas so he can reign your ass in. I’m tired of your attitude and your ungratefulness. So, I’m going to pick the place. Meet me in an hour at The Golden Palace. Be there or not, I don’t really care.” I press “End” and immediately call Willow. After briefly filling her in, she agrees to call Lucas and to tell Trevor. They’ll meet me there in an hour.
I’m the first to arrive at The Golden Palace since it’s only three blocks from my house. I’m nervous since the band is coming and I want privacy. “I have some very important people meeting me here today and privacy is of the utmost. Is there a room or a corner of the restaurant where we could be secluded? I know it’s last minute and all.”
“How big is your party?” When I let the hostess know there’s only six of us, she ushers me into a small room off the kitchen. It’s perfect, with just a large table in the center that seats eight. It looks more like a makeshift office or conference room.
“This is perfect. Thank you so much. One more favor. Is it possible to let them in by the kitchen?” Her brows hit her hairline and I feel like I need to explain. “They’re musicians, The Sinful Seven, in fact, and we wouldn’t want to create chaos in your lovely restaurant.”
“Discretion is necessary. I’ll make sure they are escorted to the kitchen entrance. Will they be arriving all together?” Crap, no. I need to text them all to come in on the side instead of walking through the front door.
“No, they will arrive separately. I’ll make sure to tell them to arrive by the side door. Thank you so much.”
I quickly shoot a group message to let everyone know.
Me: Park away from the front if possible and someone will escort you around the building.
Everyone shoots me a thumbs up response except Jet. Well, screw him. I’m done playing nice.
11
JET
I’ve no idea why she’s being so secretive, but it’s pissing me off. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that whatever her answer is, I’m not going to like it much. I don’t bother answering her text, it’s a moot point. I’m not a child and I can read, so why waste the time?
I’m pulling into the restaurant right behind Lucas and Abby, so I follow them to the corner of the parking lot. Willow is already waiting, and as soon as we get out of our cars a blonde with legs for miles rushes over. No doubt she wants pics and autographs.
“Hi, my name’s Cindy and I’ll be escorting all of you inside. We’re going to use the employee entrance by the kitchen so we don’t cause a scene. Please follow me.” I’d like to say “Gladly”, but that’s the old me. The new me couldn’t care less.
Cindy hurries us through the side door, and we walk through a small break room with a fridge and microwave. We then head down a long hallway before she leads us through a wooden door where Quinn’s waiting for us.
“Thanks, Cindy, you’re a lifesaver.” Long Legs excuses herself and says something about bringing us drinks, but I’m too focused on someone else to pay any attention.
“Just get to the point, Quinn. Did Caleb say yes or no? Is that too much to ask for? Why didn’t he call me instead?” Lucas gives me a look to shut up and sit down, but I don’t take orders from him or anyone else for that matter.
In three short strides, my knuckles are hitting the edge of the table, and Quinn and I are eye-to-eye. “Yes or no?”
A hand lands on my shoulder and I want to punch the fucker who dared touch me, but when I glance over, it’s Abby. My heart races at the thought of almost hurting her.
“Jet, please sit down so Quinn can tell us the answer. Intimidating her isn’t helping anything. Please.” Oh, she’s smart, this girl. She knew I’d crumble.
Yanking off my beanie, I rake my hands through my messy hair and pull up a damn seat. I’m tired of waiting. I just want to know the fucking answer. Is that too much to ask?
Quinn stands and begins pacing around the room, which does nothing for the nerves bouncing around inside of me. Fuck, this isn’t good.
“Caleb called to let me know the board decided against the charity concert.” She holds up her hand when everyone starts complaining. “Hang on, guys. Let me finish. He had another idea and I’m sure we can make it work. Hear me out.” A knock on the door has her backtracking so she can open it. Enter Long Legs and her entourage.
We all shut our mouths as they bring in trays of food and drinks. Once they’ve placed the last tray on the table, the three sneak a peek or two. Hey, I’m used to it, no biggie. Before leaving, Long Legs puts some kind of buzzer on the table. “If you need anything else, just press this and I’ll pop in. Otherwise, your privacy is our main concern.”
“Thank you, Cindy,” Quinn says. “You’ve been a lifesaver. I think we’re good for now.” With a nod, she walks out, but not before I wonder if she’s a screamer or not. Sorry, I’m human after all.
“As I was going to say. His new plan seems fair, and I think once I explain everything you’ll all be onboard. I took the liberty of ordering appetizers and drinks, so help yourself and I’ll explain everything.” Everyone’s too upset to eat, but we go ahead and grab some beers and a couple rounds of shots. I have a feeling we’re going to need them.
“Caleb suggested we add another month
onto the backend of the tour.” Trevor grouses as he should, since he’s left his mom alone throughout the tour. Well, technically, she’s not alone since she has a nurse twenty-four seven, but he wants to be there since he’s family. “I know it’s not ideal, but if we agree, then Caleb will book the venues, the bands, and he can do all of the PR stuff. Basically he’d be doing my job so I can focus on the rest of the tour. Everything—tickets, merchandise, all of it—will be taken care of. All the money will go to the homeless in each of the cities we play in.”
I slam my hand down on the table so hard, everyone jumps. “I wanted all the money to go to NYC since that’s where we live. I’ve been donating a ton of money to homeless people everywhere, but I wanted to focus on here.” I really don’t know why I’m feeling like this, but everything is suddenly out of my control.
“Jet, come on man,” Lucas says. “This is an amazing opportunity. If we pass it up, we’ll never get another chance again.” Yeah, it’s easy for Lucas to say since it wasn’t his vision, it’s mine! “Think about it, we can just concentrate on the tour while Caleb and his minions do all the hard work. It’s a win, win.”
Why is everyone looking at me like I’m the only one who doesn’t think this is the best thing since peanut butter and jelly? “Since you’ve already made up your minds I guess majority rules, right?”
Willow shakes her head. “No, not at all. If this proposal doesn’t sit well with you, then we won’t do it. But before you give us your final decision, just think about how many lives will benefit because of this. Jet, we can cram a ton of concerts in one month and that would be bank for a wonderful cause.” When she stands, walks over, and hugs me from behind, I thaw. She’s right, this is so much bigger than me.
Opening my eyes, I’m met with a fiery gaze. Quinn doesn’t look happy that Willow and I are touching. Does she know we’ve slept together? Is she jealous? I highly doubt it, but I do love torturing her for no apparent reason.
Jet: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 2) Page 7
