by Leanne Davis
“No.”
“Well, that’s good. One thing I can like about you.”
“Because there aren’t many?”
“You said it, not I.” She slipped him a cocky grin and stopped before the door that led to his apartment. It was beside her office door.
“Well, I’ll see you. Think about what I said. It would certainly improve your future chances of making any career of being a drummer.”
“That lecture was all about helping my career?”
“Of course. If people can’t work with you, I can’t place you. It’s all connected. I’ve had to tell musicians to shower more often because they smelled so bad. We just want to put as positive a foot forward as we can.”
So Jody wasn’t really interested in him? She couldn’t have swung a meaner strike to his ego. Startled, he realized his error in thinking that he got to her. Damn, she was good.
“I want everything to work out with Rob and Spencer. I know what they will and won’t tolerate. Heed my warnings and take my advice. If it means ordering a self-help book, seeking mental health services, or a life counselor, or medication, or freaking calling your mother on the phone, just start figuring out your issues and find solutions for them. Don’t do anything to sabotage this incredible opportunity or allow it to fail. They won’t give you a second chance. There are too many other artists they could hire to replace you. Understand that right now.”
“You make a strong point. I’ll mind my attitude more often.”
“Good. I’d appreciate not feeling like I’m giving you a root canal every time I see your face.”
Fuck. She was so spot on. Bingo. Her aim was flawless and she always hit a bullseye. He deserved everything she said too. He almost asked if she planned to be on the street alone, and thought he shouldn’t leave her until he remembered her guard. He doubted she needed anyone to protect her physically.
“Goodnight,” Ross said, trying to end on a civil note. Mostly, he just wanted to end it. He was tired and weary of hearing anymore of her observations. They were factual, deserved, undebatable and brutal. He obviously had a low tolerance for the truth. He had a lot of fucking work to do too.
Oh, damn. Despite the years of brainwashing himself that he was beyond caring, and wanting, and striving, and having high expectations, here he was. Wanting, caring, striving and having high expectations. He preferred to be the drummer for Zenith and the chance to have a fucking career that was much more fulfilling to him than shucking alcohol for weekend alcoholics.
The first practice began the next day. There was nothing for him in Seattle so he was eager for it to begin. A rental car was delivered at no expense to him with a navigation device to help him find his way around. He appreciated it as he drove the long-assed distance to nowhere. Luckily, most of the traffic was heading into the city from the suburbs, and he was going the opposite direction, well beyond the suburbs. Spencer commuted from Seattle as well, but there was no thought to carpooling. Ross didn’t dare ask. Spencer often left the studio to take care of his fatherly duties with one or more of his four kids.
Four kids.
Wow.
Ross wasn’t sure what to make of these older rock stars and their families. The conversations were more like talk show topics than any hot happenings in the music world, or any other world for that matter.
Ross finally had a space to truly improve his playing because there was nothing else for him to do but work. He did like both of the guys, and admired their friendship for each other as well as their devotion. A fourth guy sometimes showed up to play bass guitar. He wasn’t as solid in his skills as Rob and Spencer were with each other. That was evident.
Ross loved learning their songs and became a sponge, absorbing any knowledge he could find about them. He spent long days inside their small, private studio. It was like attending a college of all things related to music, especially rock, and the creation, lyric-writing and harmonization.
The results began to flow, and damn. Ross felt like he entered a dream, without knowing he even had such a dream before.
He brought his food from the store to eat at the studio. Rob and Spencer often wandered into Rob’s house for meals, but Ross never did. He had no desire to enter their domestic lives. They appreciated that boundary as well. They were family, even Spencer, but Ross was not. He was merely a temporary passenger on the train they’d been riding together for thirty years or longer.
Ross intended to benefit from their thirty years. He hoped to learn from their mistakes, grave and small, as well as their successes.
By the time he got back to Seattle, Ross was exhausted. Since the city didn’t appeal to him anyway, he hunkered down in the loft, which was still such a kick for him to stay in. He ordered the various foods he liked to eat and that was pretty much his life. Quiet, yes, but unlike any life he ever imagined having. It was always interesting, invigorating, and, dare he admit? It was also inspiring. He never knew he could be so inspired. Or hopeful. Sometimes, he felt nearly fucking giddy.
He drank too much too. At night, when he was all alone in the big, sad, lonely city. He wasn’t sure what else to do with himself. The hours of self-reflection were invariably interrupted by someone whose damn voice was bigger in his head than his own. Oh, yeah, his liaison, Jody Lassiter.
She spoke to him often. She rented his cars. She told him when Rob wanted to see him and coordinated every move he made. She paid for his meals and gave him spending money and asked if he needed anything. She hadn’t found any more permanent places for Ross to stay yet, but Rob approved of him staying where he already was for now.
One Saturday night, Ross was staring at a clear, crystal shot glass and drinking alone again. He was thinking of Roland. Was it a murder or an accident? His mother convinced herself he murdered his brother. But did he really? No. He never meant to do anything. He never wanted his brother to die. But that didn’t change the facts of it either.
Around and around, the thoughts swirled in his brain while the amber bourbon whiskey swirled in the clear crystal glass, cruelly mocking his thoughts. Endlessly. On a loop. It hadn’t been that way for years.
Years.
He ignored his thoughts by numbing his feelings and turning his brain off. Waking up too soon, his damn brain and stupid feelings overwhelmed him. God, he hated that. All the reflection, emotion and worst of all, guilt. Roland’s death ripped through him as fresh as it was a decade ago.
Ugh. Not tonight. Lurching to his feet, Ross grabbed his cell phone and called a rideshare service before he went outside to wait. Upon its arrival, he repeated the name of the only bar he knew about, the one Jody took him to. Arriving there, he entered only to find it writhing with stylishly clad bodies tonight.
Well, that was good. It might get his mind off himself, which was not the best place for him to dwell. It was time to get laid and physically release all this pent-up whatever it was inside him. He took an empty seat near the end of the bar, which was L-shaped so it allowed him to observe the hopping, lively crowd. Couples, singles and friends of all ages were represented. Finally, the busy bartender took his order, and Ross nodded his thanks when the drink was swiftly made and shoved his way. Ross contemplated his surroundings. This felt nicer and somehow better than drinking alone in his empty, quiet apartment. Condo. Loft. Whatever damn thing he lived in.
Silently perusing all the people, he was bumped and jostled a few times, but Ross kept his head down, his shoulders slumped and was mostly ignored. Then he recognized something. He looked at the subject a bit sharper and smiled.
Of course. It was Jody Lassiter. This was her place, after all, wasn’t it?
He lifted his head up and sat back to observe her more clearly. Tonight, she was dressed differently but just as attractive as usual. Wearing a black dress that ended mid-thigh, her legs were half as long as his. But she was adorable. An interesting mix for him. Sexy, tough, confident, and he knew she’d hate being called adorable. She was cute. So cute. He liked to see her wid
e, genuine smile. Her eyes gleamed. Being so tiny, she made him imagine how it felt to pick her up and he knew she wouldn’t approve of his thoughts. Sexualizing her when they had to work together. Or was she his boss? What role did she play? The power dynamic between them was out of balance and she had more than he, but he wondered if it were due to her position or her personality.
Damn. What a personality she had. He never met another person like her, male, female or alien. She was dynamic, strong, principled, disciplined, loyal, honest, and despite all that, fun. A freaking fun, intriguing person to be around. Her magnetic personality, contagious smile and unparalleled charisma drew everyone toward her. She entered a room like a tornado, sweeping all the people up with her energy that crackled and spat fireballs.
Now? She was smiling as she related a story, herself the obvious focus of the group of six people with her. She punctuated whatever she was saying with more smiles. Her hands also spoke, winding up whatever she was saying. The group fell into laughter as she finished. All the while, Ross soaked in his fill of her. Movements, body expressions, familiar habits. She finished before another guy started talking. She nodded, rolling her eyes and smiling in a way that indicated it was an off-color joke. She did a courtesy laugh, and knew better than to be laughing since it wasn’t even funny. It was nice to enjoy the full flavor of her without feeling the urge to look away, or getting chastised for his attitude, deservedly or not, which annoyed him and made him avoid looking at her most of the time.
Glancing away, she suddenly hopped onto her feet. She began walking towards a man seated at a table nearby her. She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around him from the back and dropping them down both sides of his neck to clasp the center of his chest. At the same moment, she kissed his cheek and squeezed.
Was he her boyfriend? Fuck-boy? Had to be something close. The tall guy remained solemn as he lifted his face toward her and then looked away. Ross couldn’t see the guy’s reaction. Just the profiles of her and him. She slid around and just then, her gaze landed on Ross. She caught him staring right at her.
Startled and surprised, she fumbled whatever she tried to say for a moment as she straightened up, her eyebrows furrowing. Then she raised her hand and gave Ross a small, feeble wave. So unlike her was the watery, weak smile that followed.
Ross didn’t smile back. Not unusual. He lifted his drink and gave her a silent toast. Gaining traction, she shook her head with pursed lips and rolled her eyes at him. She spoke to the guy below her, who was sitting and his head was level with her boobs. He had to notice that. They were small but perky, the kind that tipped up and begged to be tasted.
She broke eye contact, stopped talking with the guy and patted his shoulder to release him before she sauntered over to Ross. Her gait was slower than usual, appearing careful and measured. She probably had too much to drink, he guessed.
Stopping when she had to squeeze between him and the guy sitting on his left, she pushed his right side into the wall.
“Stalking me now?”
“I got sick of drinking alone. This was the only bar I knew of.”
Her smile was slippery. Yep, the girl was buzzed. “You’re still drinking alone.”
“I don’t have any friends, remember? My terrible attitude and demeanor, and my insatiable need for mothering keep me alone and on the outside.”
She giggled. He turned to see her better. This close, his gaze had a perfect view of her neck. Giggle. Jody Lassiter didn’t giggle. But when she was tipsy she did? Fascinating.
“Or because you’re new in town. You could have just gone with that.”
“Ah, but that’s not the truth, is it? And we both know it. Why stop being honest with each other now?”
She nodded and her elbow jostled the guy behind her. He bristled, and she turned and smiled before offering a rushed sorry, and turning back to Ross. “We are. It’s better that way, don’t you think? We skip all the bullshit. We both know where we stand.”
“True. Yeah. I guess I do. And I got hit on twice since I’ve been sitting here but I honestly told them to fuck off.” He grinned evilly into his drink as he lifted it for a sip.
She sighed and replied, “You did not.”
Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I declined, not so friendly or politely, but firmly. I didn’t say fuck off, I said I was meeting someone. So not totally fuck off, even though that was my intent.”
“See? You’re not as bad as I assumed. But you’d just tell me to fuck off if that was your intent.”
“So is that a good thing? We developed an honesty that allows us to do that?”
“Yes. Exactly. Like right now. On our personal time, you’ll tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to talk to me or you don’t like the subjects I bring up.” She leaned over, taking his drink from the counter and having the gall to lift it to her lips, all the while smirking at him. She sipped from it, then set it back down, leaving the telltale imprint of her lipstick smudged on his glass. It was definitely a power play from Jody. Unfortunately, all it did was turn him on. Her lips puckered up and all he could think of was her head bent over his naked body. She wouldn’t like that much honesty, he bet.
Squirming on the barstool, he took the glass, avoiding her lipstick smudge before downing it. “I think your boy-toy’s waiting for you.” He tipped his head towards the tall, handsome man he last saw her flirting with. Olive-complexion and dark black hair, cut short and traditionally styled. Suit and tie, dressed properly, yeah, he was so like her.
“Boy-toy?” she repeated with undisguised curiosity, turning to see where he waved. Then she shuddered. “Sawyer? Oh, no. He’s nothing like that. Ooh. Gross. He’s like my brother. I’ve known him since he was born. That’s Sawyer Mattox, Spencer’s oldest son and one of my best friends.”
Ross was wrong maybe but he reasonably pointed out, “He looks exactly like your type.”
“Oh, no. Not at all. I think you pegged me all wrong. Let’s see…” She put a finger to her pouty, gloss-slicked lips. Damn. Why did her lips keep flashing in his brain? “There. I’ve slept with him… and him… those two guys are my type.”
Ross didn’t look at them at first. Being so startled by her casual, easy explanation, he took a moment to follow the direction her finger pointed. He’d never had a woman so casually point out the various men she’d slept with. Not exes, it seemed, but just fucks? He liked it. The power she had in herself, her confidence, and her surety impressed him. Knowing she could have sex with whomever she wanted, she eliminated any stigmas designed to debase women.
Ross withstood the urge to react to her words. He planned to reflect on them later along with the instantaneous, split-second, unprecedented stab of jealousy he felt over hearing her words. She slept with him and him. A visceral, uncontrollable and totally unwelcome reaction to her words screamed in his brain and he simply didn’t want to know about anyone she slept with. Because what he felt was jealousy. Stupid, ordinary, undisguised jealousy. No. Nah. He didn’t get the green-eyed monster thing. Never with women or sex. Never.
The first guy she pointed to was short and slim with a pile of curly hair he pulled into a man-bun. His clothes were eccentric. The next guy had a pencil-slim beard and thick glasses. Yeah, neither was as polished or classy as the Sawyer guy. Neither were good looking. Both were the cerebral kind.
Ross wasn’t her type at all.
She kept accidentally banging her elbow into the guy behind her, who kept shooting her icy glares, but she failed to notice. Finally, he grunted as he shoved off the stool on the opposite side. She barely glanced at his dramatic huff but smiled with delight to herself as she took the newly vacated stool. Slipping onto it, she turned to Ross and the skirt of the dress slipped up a few inches as she crossed her slender legs. There was nothing sexier than the smooth sound of a woman’s bare legs being crossed.
Her legs were fantastic. He kept staring at the length of bare thigh above her shapely knee. She tapped one foot back and forth as if her ex
cess energy had to find release somewhere.
“Your type isn’t anything like your dad or any musicians.”
“No. Not at all. I like interesting people with innovative perspectives. Diversity in the subjects they discuss or have experience with. I like to learn. Constantly grow and expand. Being the daughter of a rich family, it would be wasteful if I never expanded my horizons. It would be lazy and stupid not to. I try to learn something new every day.”
“As you help the fledgling musicians?”
“Not all are fledglings. Some of them received the best coaching and private tutors. They practiced for years, but couldn’t build any traction beyond the school band or church. So it’s not just helping those with no money. And I could do more.”
Jody was simply a good person. Born into extravagance, unlimited chances and privileged opportunities, she didn’t let any of it stop her from expanding her views and outreach by trying to help others. Not in a condescending way or as do-gooder. She was inherently good.
A little buzzed himself now, Ross said something he would normally have kept to himself. “You are the best person I’ve ever met.” Then he added with a grumble, as if to quantify his comment, “Not that I’ve met very many.”
Her head tilted, but her gaze was fastened on him. “Did you just compliment me?”
“You must hear them daily. From everywhere. Don’t play dumb as if you didn’t know that already. You know exactly who and what you are. That’s another thing I admire. You stick to it. Always. You don’t shy away from anything, but neither are you insufferable.”
Her hand flopped down to grasp his forearm, which was resting on the bar near his drink. Startled, he jumped when she touched his bare skin, her palm flat and soft as her fingers gently curved around his arm. The sensation was so nice. He wanted her to continue grasping him. Then he fought the impulse to fling it off. “Did you thrice compliment me?”
“Why do you keep talking like that?” he asked without looking at her hand as his entire body froze. Afraid to move, he feared he would draw her absent-minded attention back to her hand, and didn’t want to risk her removing it from his arm.
