Playing With Fire (Grindstone Harbor, #2)

by Cat Mason

  Vicki jerks back, barely managing to keep upright. “I demand an apology, or we walk right now.”

  “I’m sorry you’re not getting the attention you think you deserve.” Glaring around Greer’s arm, Jazz squares her shoulders. There is a calm, cool, and collected confidence pouring off her, making her seem much older than she looks. She’s experienced and unafraid. Something Vicki tries like hell to fake. “I apologize for the entire world not revolving around you, since of course, I’m sure that’s my fault.” She flashes a wide smile. “Feel free to chill in the trailer the rest of the day while you lick your wounds. Enjoy the music, grab some food, or get hammered on whatever will keep you from embarrassing yourself and everyone around you. Because I promise, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face, I won’t be apologizing when I cram my foot so far up your miserable ass you choke on my shoelaces.”

  Turning on her heel, Vicki shoots a look at Nigel. “Don’t let them out of your sight.” Her eyes move back to Jazz, mouth pressing into a hard line. “You should expect a call from Mr. Boyer.”

  “Sounds great,” Jazz sings out. “I’ve been meaning to thank him for the cookie basket he sent for my birthday.”

  Vicki doesn’t respond. She looks angry enough her head might shoot right off her shoulders. Although when her mouth opens, nothing comes out. Jazz, however, is ready for war, silently daring the hateful bitch to make a move. Not that she does. The all-powerful Victoria Brandwell is stunned speechless. We all are. I mean, it isn’t every day Vicki gets her ass bested by a chick half her age.

  Now, this is the kind of shit that needs to be on YouTube.

  “Right.” Huffing out a breath, Vicki smooths her hands down the front of her black skirt, straightens her jacket, then storms out of the tent without a single word.

  Turning to face us, Jazz shakes her head. “Where did you find that whack job?”

  “You don’t go lookin’ for crazy like that,” Greer mutters, mouth curving into a smirk. “It crawls out of the deepest, darkest circle of hell and finds you.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Her eyes move to Greer, warming when he chuckles. “Sucks for her that bitchiness is my superpower.”

  “Jazzie!” Flinging open the flap on the opposite side of the tent, Hunter walks our way. “You all set in here?” he asks, looking around at the space before taking in each of us.

  “Yep.” Clearing her throat, she scoops up the clipboard, holding it out for him to see her checklist. “Sadly, I managed it without any casualties.” Blinking slowly, she shrugs a shoulder.

  “Not for lack of tryin’.” Passing her up, he grabs one of the bacon meat balls in each hand, popping them into his mouth in quick succession. “Mack heard you rippin’ into that Brandwell chick when we drove by on the golf cart.” Nodding his head in approval, he walks over and drapes an arm around her shoulders. “I needed to make sure my princess didn’t leave blood in the meet and greet tent.”

  “Don’t call me princess,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes. “I’m a grown woman. As for the bloodshed, it’s still early.” Her lips twisting up into a small smirk. “I’ve not given up hope.”

  Chuckling, Hunter gives her a one-armed squeeze. “Grown or not, you’ll always be the little girl in chucks and a tutu, shavin’ Mack’s head when he passed out.”

  “Don’t get sentimental while I’m workin’, Old Man.” She shimmies her shoulders, freeing herself of his arm. “You should go check on the boys. Last I heard, Brannon and my idiot brother were by the food trucks offering free drink tickets like Mardi Gras beads.”

  He laughs. “Smooth little shits.” Hunter looks at Quinn. “The kid will make you feel like you’ve lost your goddamn mind,” he says, pointing at the small curve of her growing belly. “What’s crazy is you’ll love it. Every damn second.” Clearing his throat, he walks over and swipes a handful of the bacon balls from the tray. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m off to handle a couple perverted little opportunists.” Tossing one into his mouth, he strides toward the door. “Love the shirt, Bristol.”

  “Um,” Bristol stammers, her cheeks flushing. “Thanks.”

  Quinn looks down, hand coming up to cover her abdomen. A dozen different expressions flash over her face. Then, I see it. Anticipation. Hope.

  Unable to look away, I watch her thumb stroke back and forth slowly over the cotton of her shirt while Jazz goes over some last minute things with Greer and Bristol. The conversation is lost on me, every word going in one ear and out the other. All my attention is on my girl. My chest swells, my heart pounding in my ears.

  Having known the woman beside me her entire life, there are probably millions of memories in my head of her. Some good, some bad, and because life can sting like a bitch, even a few painful ones. There are a chosen few that are special enough to be locked away in my heart. They’ve gotten me through hard times. In my mind they become so vivid, so real when I relive them, it’s like I captured them on film. It’s those times that send me head over heels for her all over again.

  This moment in time easily tops every single one.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hapsolutely Frine

  Quinn

  Standing stage left, Bristol and I watch a band named Furious Wanks wrap up their set. Vicki has lurked around since Jazz told her off, mostly speaking with Craig or Nigel before retreating again. I’m sure she is off writing a damn novel of a tirade to make us sit through as soon as she has us to herself again.

  I’m half tempted to ask Hunter if we can borrow Jazz for the night to keep Vicki’s ass in check until I can get some sleep.

  I have caught myself several times in the last few hours daydreaming of the fluffy pillows on my bed, back at the hotel. If I close my eyes, I can almost feel myself sinking down into the mattress. That’s of course when my stomach isn’t rumbling like some a black storm cloud.

  While there was a ton of food inside the tent for the meet and greet, there was little time for me to actually run over there and grab anything. The amount of people lined up to see us kept us so busy Jazz extended the time another thirty minutes, before having to apologize and turn people away. What little I did manage to eat has made me nauseous.

  Or that could be nerves.

  I shook off the anxiousness of performing here tonight, forcing myself to focus on the excitement more than anything. That is, until I saw the crowds around the stage getting larger. Since we arrived earlier today, the numbers have easily doubled. Each time they cheer, the stage vibrates beneath my feet. The energy coming off the crowd is thrilling. It also has my hands shaky. We haven’t performed in front of a crowd in months. It has literally been the longest break from touring we have had. Ever. Suddenly, the nerves dig in their claws. I feel off, unsteady, dizzy even. As exhilarating as it is to have thousands of fans cheering while you’re on stage, there is also the worry you may not live up to the hype.

  That I may have lost my mojo due to lack of use.

  “Thank you, Nashville!” The lead singer for Furious Wanks screams into the mic. “We’re the Furious Wanks and you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

  Cam walks out on stage. No longer wearing the jeans and t-shirt she had on earlier, she is rocking a pair of black leather pants, silver sequin covered peep toe heels, and a low cut blue lace crop top. “Thanks, Parker.” Stopping center stage, she glances our way, quickly flashing us a huge smile before turning back to the crowd. “Tonight, we’re here for a cause near and dear to all of us at EWP. Music. Music has the power to heal and breathes life into the hearts of millions. It’s an outlet that has the ability to change lives. Thanks to all of you here tonight, we can help insure that outlet will continue to be available to each and every student in the public school system. Something that becomes more and more difficult each year. As of an hour ago, the initial goal we set was smashed. Thanks to all of you and the generous donations of several local businesses and organizations, we have currently raised three point six million dollars for music education programs all ov
er the country.” The crowd cheers. “And that number continues to climb. From everyone at EWP, for the kids, for the future of music, and from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Now, let’s get back to the music. We could not have been more excited to have our next group with us. They’ve topped the charts with songs like Silently Screaming and Translucent.” The crowd goes fucking crazy, screaming and cheering. “Everybody give it up for AWOL!”

  “Ready?” Jazz asks, stepping out from behind a stack of crates.

  To my left, Bristol bounces on her heels, rolling her neck and shaking out her arms. Greer beside her, twirls his sticks between the fingers of both hands. Glancing to my right, I see Tanner, his guitar in one hand, mine in the other. A rush of excitement rushes over me, wrapping me in warmth, slightly easing my momentary freak out. “Yeah.” Slipping the strap of my bass over my head, I breathe deep, pull my ass together by the belt loops of my maternity jeans, and rush the stage with my brother, best friend, and the man I love.

  “What’s up, Nashville!” Rolling up on her toes, Bristol wraps her fingers around the mic, her other hand working to lower it the few inches she needs. “Are you ready to scream?” The crowd roars, people in the pit jumping up and down, hands in the air. “Fuck yeah!” Throwing her head back she lets out an excited laugh. “I’m Bristol Lachlan and we’re Absent Without Leave. Prepare to be fuckin’ rocked!”

  Tanner shreds into the intro of Used. Greer slams on the pedal of his bass drum, sticks coming down in quick succession on the toms. My fingers move over the frets, effortlessly finding each chord of one of my favorite songs. I feel myself slip into the zone, my spinning head and urge to throw up what little I have managed to eat today forgotten for now.

  “I’ll be your pretty picture,” Bristol sings, letting the lyrics she wrote years ago echo into the night air. “Your tawdry fantasy.”

  “A dirty little secret,” I come in, my voice floating an octave above hers. “Straight from your wildest dreams.”

  “I wanna hear you scream, Nashville!” Bristol yells, ripping the mic from the stand. “I’ll be the fire blazing behind your smoke and mirrors. Strike the match. Light the fuse. We’re all just broken people waiting to be used.”

  “You’re dangerous,” Tanner’s deep gravely growls into his mic. “Screaming to everything that’s wrong with me. I’m consumed by your flame. A pawn in your wicked game.”

  Bristol throws her head back, screaming into the mic before launching into the chorus again. The lights on the stage flash from blue to green to white and back again. The bass thrums through me, my entire body humming with adrenaline. Eyes going to the crowd, I get lost in the sea of faces. They begin to flow together, features blurring until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. It feels like I’m floating above myself, watching everything happen in slow motion.

  My arms and legs feel tingly, an unexpected rush of heat nearly suffocating me. It’s hot. So fucking hot. Closing my eyes, I breathe deep, willing myself to get it together. Opening them again, I stumble backward unsteadily. My fingers jerk, slipping on the strings, missing the first two notes of the last chorus. Tanner’s eyes catch mine. Reading me like he always seems to be able to do, concern fills his deep browns. I feel my chest begin to tighten, my heart slamming rapidly in my chest. A black blur seeps into the corners of my vision, making him seem so much farther away than I know he is.

  “You okay?” he mouths.

  Licking my lips, I try to nod, hoping to reassure us both. Not looking too convinced, he starts moving toward me. The song ends, my hands falling away from my bass, leaving it hanging around my neck by the strap. I can’t focus on any one thing, everything around me merges together. Bristol’s voice as she speaks to the audience is muffled by the sound of my blood roaring in my ears. “Quinn?” Tanner asks, one hand coming to rest on my lower back. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Mhm.” Looking up at him, I try to focus on his face. His spinning, very blurry face. “I’m hapsolutely frine,” I shout back, right before my knees give and I pass out.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bristol Lachlan M.D.

  Tanner

  “Quinn!” Not giving a fuck about anything but her, I sling my guitar to the ground, barely managing to catch her before she falls to the stage. She goes limp in my arms, eyes closed and unresponsive. Fuck. My heart squeezes in my chest painfully, fear settling heavy in my gut. What the fuck is happening right now? “Shit.” Unclasping the strap around her neck, I slide her bass out of my way to check her over.

  A loud bang is followed by a screeching hum when Bristol drops her mic to the ground and runs toward us. “Quinnie!” Greer leaps up from his stool. Throwing down his sticks, he rushes across the stage, hitting his knees beside me. “What the hell happened?” he chokes out, sounding as terrified as I am.

  “No clue.” My eyes stay on her, looking for any signs of movement. “Barely made it to her before she went down.”

  “We need a medic over here!” Greer shouts to Craig and Nigel. I glance up, seeing both of the worthless pricks standing stock still just off stage. “She’s pregnant!”

  “I’ve already called!” Jazz shouts, shoving around Nigel. “They’re on the way from the medical tent now.”

  My attention goes back to Quinn. “Come on, baby.” Brushing away the hair from her face, I find her pulse, relived when I feel her pulse beating steadily beneath my fingers. “I need you to wake up for me.” With the steady rise of her chest making me feel a little better, I lift her into my arms as I stand, determined to get her off stage.

  “What the hell are you doing, Tanner?” Bristol asks, rushing alongside me. “You never move the patient before they’ve been assessed.” Both Greer and I stop midway down the ramp, heads snapping in her direction. “What? I’ve watched every episode of Grey’s Anatomy,” she shrugs. “My eyes may have been covered a lot, because blood, but compared to you shitheads I’m the chief of motherfucking emergency medicine.”

  A man and a woman come racing up on a golf cart with a flashing red light on top. Leaping out, she grabs a duffle, the man grabbing a long yellow stabilizing board. “Over here,” Greer barks, throwing up a hand to get their attention.

  Making their way through the people gathering, most of them phone in hand, either taking photos or recording, the woman starts shouting for security to set up some kind of perimeter to control the crowd. Meeting us at the bottom of the ramp, they settle their things on the ground. Dropping to one knee, I ease Quinn down on to the board with some help from Greer and the male medic. Once we have her settled, Greer steps back and I move up to her head, giving them room to work.

  “She’s gonna be fine,” I murmur to myself.

  She has to be.

  I refuse to believe anything else.

  “Twenty-five-year-old, pregnant female,” Bristol begins rambling nervously, while they strap Quinn’s body to the board with the attached Velcro straps. “Approximately twenty weeks gestation. Lost consciousness about three minutes ago. Start a line and push fluids. Someone needs to page OB and Neuro.”

  “Mhm.” Quinn moans, her head lulling to the side. Eyes still closed, her lips part. “And get the crazy bitch a psych consult.”

  My knees give out, sending me to my ass, tears of relief stinging my eyes. “Quinn?” I cup her cheek, my thumb skimming over her furrowed brow. “Fuck,” I choke out, leaning to down press my lips to her temple.

  “I’m okay,” she replies, her voice scratchy and rough.

  “I’m not,” Bristol blurts, throwing up her hands. “I think that took ten years off my life.”

  “Pulse is steady,” the female medic says, ignoring Bristol’s crazy ass rundown, and Quinn’s weak assurances.

  “Ma’am?” the man asks. “My name’s Hugo. Can you tell me where you are?”

  “Yeah,” she huffs, her eyes blinking open. “Lyin’ in the dirt, ruining fifteen-hundred-dollar suede boots.”

  He looks to Greer and me when we start t
o laugh. “Yeah,” I chuckle, feeling like I can breathe for the first time since I looked over and saw her go pale. “There’s my girl.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Vicki’s sharp tone snaps like a fucking whip. Storming up to Nigel, she shoves him. “I should have been notified of this immediately.” Moving our way, she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes raking over Quinn. “What happened? Is she all right?”

  I look to Greer and Bristol, both of them looking as shocked as I am about Vicki’s sudden concern for any of us. “She collapsed on stage,” Camaron says, coming down the ramp. Stopping, she hands Bristol a card. “This is my cell number. Anything you need, and I mean anything, you call. I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can.”

  “Cam, you don’t have to—”

  “My concern isn’t out of obligation,” she explains, her eyes cutting to Vicki. “It’s because I’m a decent human being.”

  “Bristol!” Tage shouts, he and Evan shoving their way through the crowd.

  “That’s far enough,” Nigel warns, he and Craig turning to face them, and blocking their path. He glares at Evan. “We’ve got this handled.”

  “The fuck you do.” Pushing past Tage, Evan nails Nigel in the nose with a right hook, putting the arrogant bastard on his ass. His eyes snap to Craig. “Back the hell up, asshole. Or you’re next.”

  “Let them through,” Bristol shouts, looking over at Vicki. “This isn’t about crowd control and privacy. They’re family!”

  Taking her eyes from Quinn, Vicki looks to Craig, then to the sea of people capturing every second on their phones. Her jaw ticks, lips pressed into a hard line. “Of course,” she sighs, waving a hand through the air. “Let them by, Craig. Nigel, take a moment to get yourself cleaned up.”

  Craig grabs Nigel’s arm, helping him to his feet. Covering his busted nose with one hand, Nigel looks to Evan, chest rising and falling rapidly. After a minute, they both step back, allowing them to pass. Crossing his arms over his chest, Craig continues to stand at his position. Nigel shoots one last glare at Evan’s back before stalking away.