by Megan Derr
Jet's brows shot up and he stared at Jason for a moment before turning back to Leigh. "Do you really? Does he go to them often?"
"All the time, as many as he can—"
"That's enough," Jason cut in, shooting her a look, ignoring the satisfied grin that Jet was shooting him. "We're supposed to be working, not gushing over my client." Rolling her eyes, Leigh settled in the chair in front of his desk.
"Coffee?" Jet asked her.
She smiled at him. "Yes, please and thank you." When Jet had gone, she said more seriously, "I brought all your resignation papers, including terms laid out by the partners."
Jason grimaced. "Thank you. Do you have the list of clients?"
"Yes, and I've been on the phone practically since all this happened since I knew …" she trailed off and shrugged. "Assuming you intend to start your own practice, I've secured all your entertainment clients. I haven't spoken to any of the corporate, since I wasn't certain you wanted to retain them—"
"I don't," Jason said. "Thank you. That saves me making all those calls today."
She set a stack of files on his desk. "Those are what you need to prepare to pass those clients along to others in the firm; I've made notes about who is getting what to make it as smooth as possible. I've set up your email so anything pertaining to those cases is forwarded along, and otherwise they get an out of office reply. Anything flagged or from certain clients comes directly to me and I sort it out from there."
"As usual, I am completely superfluous except for signing things, and I'm not even certain you really need me for that."
Leigh just shrugged and smiled, then set a dark green card envelope on his desk. "That's from the firm. Well, really all the secretaries and paralegals. The lawyers are all afraid to associate with you right now, though I think some of them snuck in to sign it after hours." She rolled her eyes. "We also chipped in and got you a certificate to that fancy restaurant you like so much. And this," she finished, setting a folder on top of the pile, "is all my hiring paperwork."
"Hiring paperwork?"
Her face fell slightly. "Do you already have a new secretary lined up for when you start your own firm? Because I feel I can compete—"
"Oh," Jason said. "No, of course not. When would I have hired anyone? I've only been out of the hospital what, seven or eight hours? But I don't even have an office yet—"
"I've called several possible candidates and scheduled to look at them myself this week. I'll narrow them down to two of three for you to look at some time next week. My nephew, Rich, is just out of law school and willing to work on the cheap for the experience, I can put him to work on all the paperwork we'll need to file to get the business going. All we really need is someone to handle the finances, but I have a few lines out—"
Jason held up a hand. "You're wonderful. I might have a lead on an accountant." He looked toward the door as it opened. "Jet, I don't suppose you'd get my wallet? I keep leaving it upstairs."
"Sure, hang on," Jet said and handed off Leigh's coffee before darting away again.
"Oh, my god it's true," Leigh said, cheeks going pink.
"What?"
She pointed a finger where Jet had been. "You're sleeping with him! Mr. Kristopherson, I never knew you had it in you! Bad boy!"
Jason lifted his eyes to the ceiling and, for a moment, wished he had stayed in the hospital after all. "Are you done?"
"Not even remotely, but it can wait," Leigh replied. "Xavier Lord called to convey his condolences, and I would not be surprised if some manner of get well gift showed up on your doorstep soon. I've been fobbing off the press, sent a few form statements to some of the papers … let's see …" she rifled through her leather satchel and pulled out a notepad, flipping it open and reading over a neatly written list that filled most of a page. "Ah, yes, I knew I was forgetting something. Taylor from your club stopped by the hospital, but you were still asleep. Stopped by the office later and said to warn you of a visit later in the week but not to worry about the club. Would you like me to arrange an appointment?"
"No reason to. It's not like I'm employed anymore. We'll have the lingering clients shunted off by the end of the week, hopefully in the next couple of days. I have an appointment at one—" He stopped as the door opened again. "Was my wallet that lost?"
Jet smiled. "Nah, Dai woke up and I was talking to him for a bit. He left to fetch some of our equipment, if you don't mind us practicing. We were thinking of ordering from that sandwich place for lunch in a couple of hours, you two in?"
"Yes, the house club," Jason replied, and when Jet held out his wallet, he grabbed Jet's wrist and pulled him in close enough to kiss—just because he could in front of Leigh, and the idea of no longer having to hide from every single person in his life was headier than any drug.
"You—" Jet stared at him in shock.
Jason let him go and said, "The studio should be unlocked, but you know where the key is if it's not."
"Y-yeah," Jet said, staring at him a moment longer before shaking himself and leaving again.
Leigh giggled.
"Since when do you giggle?" Jason demanded. "My god, one ass kicking and everyone around me has gone body snatchers. Stop making that absurd noise and get to work, or I won't be able to recommend you to your new employer."
"Uh-huh," Leigh said, rolling her eyes again as she stood and carried the files and paperwork to the table by the window, arranging it all before she sat down to get to work.
"Oh!" Jason flipped open his wallet and extracted Abraham's business card. "Here's the accountant I mentioned. Give him a call and see if you can't coax him into working for us."
Leigh took the card, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I know this name, how do I know it?" She tapped it thoughtfully against her cheek. "Oh! My brother-in-law. Sherri's husband, not Moira's. The contractor, you remember him. He uses this guy. I'll call him right up. How'd you meet him?"
Jason shook his head. "Met him very briefly. Said if I needed anything to give him a call."
"Then I'll call," she said and, with a wink, strode back to the table and dug out her cell phone.
They worked in silence until the door opened again a couple of hours later, and the smell of food made Jason's stomach growl. "Lunch time! I forgot to ask what you wanted, Leigh, but Dai said you liked the chicken parmesan—how does my perpetually oblivious cousin know that?—so that's what we got."
Leigh laughed. "Dai's been stuck in the office when we've ordered food before. It was sweet of him to remember. I think I'll go tell him thanks. Boss, unless you need me right away, I'll probably eat this and then duck out to start meeting with realtors."
"I'll survive for a couple of hours I think," Jason said.
"I think Dai's in the kitchen still," Jet said and waved as she left. Strolling over to the desk, he handed over Jason's club, then took the chair in front of the desk and began to make short work of his own sandwich, roast beef from the smell of it. "How's work?"
"Work," Jason said. "But I already have a solid staff, minus the accountant, so assuming my father does not try to cause too much trouble when I resign, I should be up and running by next month."
Jet froze in the process of lifting his sandwich. "Up and running? You're starting your own firm? Uncle Henry is going to fucking shank you."
"I think he might pick a slower method of killing me after he finds out how many clients are jumping ship with me. He probably thinks the only one stupid enough to go with me is Forever and a Dai."
"Us and everyone who wants me not to punch them in the face when next I see them," Jet said.
Jason shook his head, mouth twitching as he fought a smile. "Practice going well?"
Jet wrinkled his nose. "Not really. If Kim doesn't stop playing like his fingers are suddenly made of noodles I'm going to make him eat his guitar. That's assuming Dai the Bitchy doesn't shove his face into the wall first. You got all the patience on that side of the family."
"Believe me, I am well aware of th
at," Jason drawled. "The piano teacher liked me."
"Ugh, don't remind me of that bitch. She was all over you like a hooker—"
Jason cut him off with a look. "I don't want to know what you were about to say." He balled up the trash from his sandwich and threw it away, then looked at Jet again and said, "Come here."
"I know that tone," Jet murmured and obediently abandoned the remains of his own food to circle the desk. Jason pushed until Jet was sitting on the edge of it, right in front of him, then stood up to kiss him. Jet tasted like spicy beef and mayo and all Jet beneath it.
He murmured in approval as Jet's fingers sank into his hair, holding him carefully, but firmly. Drawing back just enough to speak, Jason said, "So how long do I have to wait until you're going to let me fuck you."
"When I know your ribs aren't going to break and stab your lungs and you don't have those stitches across your forehead. Idiot. Why did I say you had patience?"
"Like you have any patience to speak of," Jason said and kissed him again before Jet could reply. He pushed a hand up under Jet's shirt, eager for skin, running through the list of everything he wanted to do and narrowing it down to what he thought he could get away with—
And jumped back, ribs screaming in protest, at the sound of shattering glass.
"What in the fuck is wrong with you?" Henry snarled, the remains of a broken vase at his feet, knocked from the table by the door.
Jet leapt off the desk and spun around, standing between Jason and his father as Henry bore down on them.
"You sick little fuck, this is—" Henry broke off when Jet punched him, stumbling back, tripping, and landing hard on his ass. He went red in the face and climbed to his feet. "I can't believe—"
"Believe it," Jason said coldly. "If you want to talk, we'll talk. If you're going to throw a tantrum then I'm more than happy to have you thrown out."
Henry sneered. "Who the fuck is going to throw me out?"
"We are," Dai said from the doorway, the rest of the band spilling into the room behind him. "They've put up with enough, and for fuck's sake, Jay still has his stitches in! If you can't bring yourself to be upset by the fact you want to hurt your own son, then you may at least want to remember how good the firm will look when it's leaked to the press you abused him."
"I came here to talk. We had an appointment."
Dai sneered. "Then talk."
"Alone," Henry said coldly.
"I don't—" Jet started, but at Jason's touch to his shoulder fell reluctantly silent.
Jason motioned for his father to sit down. "We'll talk. But the minute you start doing more shouting and throwing things than talking, out you go." He tugged Jet close and gave him a quick, hard kiss. "I'll let you know if something goes wrong. For now, go. I'll handle this."
"Fine," Jet said. "But you had better call me and not try to handle it all alone. Stop being a dumbass."
"You have no room to talk. Go."
Making a face, stealing another quick kiss, Jet obeyed, following Dai and others from the room and leaving Jason alone with his father.
Track 11: Words are Glass (Love the Way They Shatter)
"What do you think they're discussing?" Jet asked. "I really should have stabbed him in the face when I had a chance." His head thumped on the island, hands sinking into the hair he wanted to tear out from sheer frustration and worry. He never should have left Jason alone with his father.
Dai pinched him. "Chill the fuck out. Jay's been putting up with our father for years. No one knows him better."
"Yeah, well, Uncle Henry didn't know I was banging his golden child before either."
Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Dai thwacked him and said, "Shut the fuck up. He'll be fine. It just means the gloves are off, and my brother always did fight best when he was allowed to lose them. You know that."
Jet grimaced, reluctantly conceding the point. Attempting to distract himself, he dragged over the papers Dai had dropped on the island and began reading over them, stealing the pen clipped to Dai's shirt to start tweaking lyrics. Given they'd just finished one tour, it would be ages and ages past before they actually started on the next album, but he and Dai always wrote best in times of stress, if only because they needed that level of distraction. He snorted softly. "Raven? You're not saying 'raven' here. In fact, fuck this whole line. Are you on a gothic novel kick or something?"
"Shut up," Dai said and jabbed a finger at the next clump of messily written lines, already half-obscured by notations. "Raven's the only thing that works."
"Ha! I accept your challenge, sir." Jet crossed the word out, then several more, ignoring Dai's slurs and insults, smirking when he finally stomped off to get something to drink. After a few more minutes of mucking with the song, he set it aside to go over their set list for the upcoming concert. "Do we really want to play Nightingale for this venue?"
"They'll live," Kim said. "But if it seems like a bad bet at the last minute, we can do …" he pursed his lips in thought, "Die Slowly for Me or Love You Like a Romance Novel." Jet's hands tightened reflexively at the mention of that song. "You know," Kim said. "I always wondered who or what inspired that song. You're always so bitchy about your sources of inspiration. Just how many of our soppier songs are inspired by your kissing cousin?"
Dai groaned, drowning out Jet's reply. "Oh, my god. Stop it! Stop it right now! I cannot sing those songs if I'm aware they're about my brother and my cousin. I am never singing Confined Spaces ever again. Do you hear me?"
"That has nothing to do with Jason!" Jet said hotly. He scowled at the chorus of disbelieving noises that got him. "It doesn't," he muttered and went back to fussing with song lyrics. "Assholes."
"Swap Nightingale with Romance Novel," Dai said. "It's a better fit anyway for that set. We should have thought of it to begin with. Now, are you miserable lot ready to get back to work?"
Kim snorted. "Depends. Are you going to keep getting bitchy with me?"
"Not if you start playing the way you should," Dai replied, leading the way out of the kitchen and down the hall to soundproof room Jason had installed years ago for those rare occasions he had clients hiding in his home for long stretches of time.
Jet grabbed a soda from the fridge and hastened after them. He flinched when he passed by the office and heard muffled shouting. Jason's voice, too. That was practically a sign of Armageddon.
Jet hovered in front of the door, fingers itching to throw it open and have at his stupid uncle himself—but he'd said he'd leave Jason to it. Ugh. Making himself turn away, Jet continued on down the hall and settled behind his drums.
He drank his soda and waited patiently while Dai and Kim argued, sharing looks with the others. Misha rolled his eyes. "You do realize that you and Jet are like, stupidly talented above and beyond the rest of us and trying to raise us to your level is just frustrating to everyone, right?"
"Aim high and don't sell yourself short," Jet replied. "Also don't lump me in with him. You don't see how bitchy he gets with me when I'm on piano. I don't know why I brought him into this some days. He'd have been way less stressful to deal with as a concert pianist or whatever."
"I heard that," Dai snapped. "How about you stop bitching about me and see if you still know how to play those?"
Jet rolled his eyes. "Yes, Majesty. Do you have a request?"
Dai smirked. "Give me Blood—" he broke off when they heard a door bang open and slam again down the hall, accompanied by the sound of Henry still shouting.
Then Jet heard Jason's voice. "Get out, father. Just get out."
Abandoning his drums again, Jet headed down the hall. Henry stared at him, eyes the coldest Jet had ever seen them. "You're nothing but a humiliation to the entire family. You cannot even honor your father's only wish—all wanted a child to whom he could give his legacy, and you're selling it. Just once, would it kill you not to be a disappointment to everyone?"
"I'm not a disappointment to me," Jet replied. The words stung, but only like applying alco
hol to a wound. It was an expected sting, something to brace for and after a couple of seconds it was gone again. "I'm not a disappointment to either of your sons. I'd wager that Jason, especially, considers me the exact opposite of a disappointment. Don't—" he snapped as Henry made to hit him.
Henry sneered, but dropped his raised fist and turned on his heel, walking away without another word. Jet heard movement behind him and turned around to face Jason. "So I take it your talk went well?"
Jason made a face. "Guess it could have been worse, though I shudder to contemplate how."
"So what did he say?" Jet asked and went easily when Jason beckoned him into the study and closed the door. He froze in surprise when Jason pushed him up against the door, but laughed as he lightly rested his hands on Jason's hips while he was thoroughly kissed. "For a man who does lawyer things and writes books, you have a hard time understanding words like 'rest' and 'take it easy' and 'be careful'."
"At least I don't struggle to understand a simple concept like 'keep my clothes on in public'."
Jet laughed, idly slipping his fingers beneath Jason's shirt to stroke smooth skin, the touch comforting, soothing, though it wouldn't be hard to tip it into hot and heady. But he didn't really want to. Sex had always been easy between them. It was everything else that still left him bemused and more than a little awed. "I can't help it if I look awesome naked and the world agrees."
Sighing and shaking his head, Jason replied, "I don't suppose saying something as stupidly caveman as 'I don't like sharing what's mine' would convince you to keep them on? Because it really drives me crazy in a bad way when you do it."
The words jolted through Jet, and he stared wide-eyed, too poleaxed to know quite how to react.
"What?" Jason's smile faded. "I take it that's a no?"
Jet gave a shaky laugh. "Not a no, definitely a yes. It's just … I think I'm used to this, or whatever, and then you say something like that and I freak. I'm not used to being 'us' yet, I guess. We haven't really been us for more than a few hours, not really. I keep waiting for it to be taken away again. It feels … "He shrugged and stared at Jason's chest, feeling a little stupid.
