ALMOST PARADISE

by Williams, Mary J.

  Either way, Jax could tell the vibe was right. Razor’s Edge was on the cusp, ready to soar—or fall flat on their faces. Either way, he knew in his bones, they were in for a hell of a ride, determined to do things their way.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?”

  Normally, Jax would shake his head and let the waitress go about her business. Something about her voice, the slight wavering catch, made him glance up into a pair of brown eyes so dark, they bordered on black.

  For the first time in his life, Jax, born with the ability to talk the devil into giving up sin, was speechless.

  “Wake up, numbnuts.” The toe of Kane’s boot knocked into Jax’s shin. “The lady asked you a question.”

  “I—” Jax cleared his throat, trying without success to un-swallow his tongue. “Um…”

  “Forgive my friend. He grew up in the outback where women are few and far between. Unfortunately, he wasn’t born with my innate charm.” Kane positioned himself between Jax and the waitress. “Another round of beers, beautiful. And keep ‘em coming.”

  The blonde nodded. Scribbling the order on her pad, she headed toward the bar.

  “Bet you she’s been a barmaid for at least a year. Long enough to know her stuff but still has the new girl shine.” Kane took a seat on the edge of the stage. “Any takers?”

  “Not me,” Beck chuckled. No one who wanted to hold onto their money bet with Kane. “See the way she cagily skirted the table of frat boys. She avoided their groping hands like a pro.”

  “Assholes need to be taught some manners,” Jax said between gritted teeth.

  “Part of the gig.” Meeting Jax’s heated gaze, Kane shrugged. “Long as women have butts, men will try to pinch them.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “I agree.” For all his talk, Kane never put his hands on any woman who didn’t welcome his touch. “No one said life was fair, my brother.”

  “I’ll flatten the first asshole who lays a hand on her.”

  Brows raised, Beck let out a slow whistle.

  “Never seen you so jacked about a woman—one you don’t even know. Love at first sight?”

  The most laidback of the group, Beck rarely let anything ruffle his feathers. Jax’s fuck you glare was a perfect example. Kane would have pushed back. Morgan tended to brood. Beck simply grinned and went about his business of setting up the speakers.

  “You won’t flatten anyone.” Kane tossed Jax a beer. “Can’t play with swollen knuckles.”

  Jax fumed, knowing Kane was right. What was wrong with him? One look into a pretty waitress’ dark eyes, and he’d forgotten the mantra he lived by. The music—the band—always came first.

  “Should at least keep an eye on her,” Jax sighed. “Like we’d do for any woman.”

  “And we will,” his friend assured him. “While we play.”

  As Kane bent to retrieve a pick from his guitar case, he pushed his hair over one shoulder then the next, grumbling the whole time, and Jax grinned, his mood lightening.

  Kane hated his wild mane but put up with the thick mass because, as he reminded his bandmates, women loved his look. More important, long hair was rock and roll.

  “Vanity is more the reason,” Jax said under his breath.

  “Heard that.”

  “Meant you to.”

  Jax looked around. The crowd was decent for early on a Friday night. Near summer break, hopefully, as the hour grew later, the bar would fill with locals and students ready to take a break from studying for finals.

  “Your girlfriend is late—again.”

  A girl singer, as Jax pointed out time and again, was not a good idea. Especially one with a fair-to-middling voice and a propensity to show up half-stoned. He worried about Kylie’s influence on Kane. A sexy woman and a ready stash of cocaine was not a good fit for a man with a try anything once approach to life.

  “Give her a few minutes. And she isn’t my girlfriend.”

  “And if she doesn’t show?”

  Casually, Kane fine-tuned his e-string.

  “Kick her ass to the curb.”

  Jax exchanged surprised looks with Beck and Morgan. Until now, Kane was Kylie’s champion, excusing everything from her fair-to-middling voice to her chronic tardiness.

  Kylie’s raw sexuality appealed to the men in the audience, making her flaws palatable to the rest of them. However, she continued to push her luck. Knowing something had happened to sour her relationship with Kane meant the day they inevitably kicked her ass to the curb, the vote would be unanimous.

  “You ready?” Dragon Malone tapped his watch, his thick brows forming a scowl.

  The owner of the bar made it clear the day he hired Razor’s Edge, he considered live music a necessary evil—the price paid to get more drinking bodies through the door.

  The salary, which included one meal and a decent supply of free beer, was pitiful. Still, if they drew enough of a crowd, they were promised a return engagement—every weekend for the next month.

  Jax kicked Kane in the shin before his friend could shoot Dragon a pithy fuck you. The chance for a place to land once a week, an extended gig where their name could gain traction, was too good for any of them to get their boxers in a twist over the money or the owner’s attitude.

  With a nod toward Dragon and one last warning look at Kane, Jax stepped to the microphone.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We’re Razor’s Edge.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  ♫~♫~♫

  THE SMELL OF booze with a backdrop of vomit permeated the empty bar. Jax didn’t notice. A man who grew up mucking sheep shit in the outback then segued to life on the road with three other musicians—all men—long ago learned to turn a blind nose to offending odors.

  Alone on the cleared stage, Jax pretended his interest was focused on placing his guitar in its case. In truth, he watched the blond waitress bus the tables. She took a rag from the pocket of her black apron, grimacing as she wiped a particularly stubborn substance from the seat of the red vinyl booth.

  “People can be disgusting once they get a few drinks in them.”

  Skye—her name was Skye—kept her head down, but her sigh was audible.

  “Some people are disgusting all the time. Alcohol is simply an excuse to up the level of bad behavior.”

  Jax had to wonder why someone so young carried around such a heavy load of cynicism. Then he thought of Kane, who even as a kid, seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Youth was meant to be carefree. His friend could attest to the fact that what should be, and what was real, were often two different things.

  Rather than start with a probing question Skye would no doubt consider none of his business, Jax went for a mundane icebreaker.

  “The crowd seemed better than last weekend.”

  She flipped chairs, setting the upended seats on the tables. When Jax helped, she didn’t argue.

  “Place was packed to capacity—thanks to Razor’s Edge.”

  “Really?”

  The squeak of excitement in Jax’s voice was unexpected and made him want to groan with embarrassment. Where his music was concerned, he didn’t possess an ounce of humility. Still, his professional career was new enough that praise, even delivered off-hand, couldn’t fail to puff up his already healthy ego.

  Skye still didn’t look him in the eye, but Jax swore he saw a slight curve of her lips. Good sign, he decided.

  “Your group made quite an impression last week. Word spread across campus, then into town. Owner’s happy. Dragon will probably implement a cover charge. Thank you, by the way.” She shook the pocket of her apron. “Townies mean better tips.”

  “Glad to help.”

  “You should ask for a raise,” Skye told him as they moved to the next table. Jax shook his head.

  On occasion, bar owners tried to withhold part of their salary—or the whole thing. They learned the hard way no one stiffs Kane H
arrison. Conversely, he and Razor’s Edge always played fair. No jacking up the fee simply because the house tallied more money than expected. In their book, a deal was a deal.

  “Next time we play here, we’ll ask for more.”

  More money. A novel idea, one Jax could get used to.

  “Next time?” Skye scoffed. “Not going to happen.”

  “Why not?” Jax raised an eyebrow, half-teasing, half-serious. “Don’t think we’re good enough?”

  “Too good.” Her shrug was matter of fact. “You guys won’t be on the college circuit much longer.”

  “You know something we don’t?”

  “I know a band with real talent, like Razor’s Edge, with your vocals and original songs, is destined for bigger and better than weekend gigs in crap-hole bars.”

  “I agree.” Fascinated, Jax’s gaze narrowed. “Question is, what qualifies you to pass judgment on our future success? Do you study music?”

  “Didn’t say I study anything.”

  Finished cleaning, Skye moved toward the bar. Jax followed, his eyes drawn to the sway of her jean-clad hips. Average height and on the lean side, she didn’t possess the ample curves he thought were in his preferred wheelhouse. Yet, something about her drew his attention, again and again, making his mouth go dry and his heart race.

  After tonight’s final set, Kane headed off in search of the party he always managed to find. Beck and Morgan chose the novelty of sleep in a real bed. A splurge, but what the heck. For once, their budget wouldn’t break over a few nights in a single motel room. Besides, the van could use a good airing out.

  Jax suffered the knowing looks of his friends as he offered to stay and break down their equipment on his own. They weren’t fooled by his casual altruism. He hoped for alone time with Skye, the chance to draw her out and discover something, anything about the beautiful blonde.

  Instead, they talked about the bar and the band. Jax’s fault. He should have steered the conversation toward her. The mention of music, her apparent knowledge, was the small opening he needed.

  “You aren’t a student at the college?”

  “I am.” Skye emptied her tips into the side pocket of a military-green backpack.

  “Sophomore? Junior?”

  “Start my junior year in the fall.”

  Skye frowned as if she wasn’t pleased by the little bit of information she’d shared.

  “I’m out of here, Dragon,” she yelled over her shoulder.

  “Drive safe,” a gruff voice answered.

  “He should walk you to your car.”

  Surprise lit Skye’s coffee-colored eyes, quickly replaced by a spark of annoyance.

  “Because I’m weak and helpless?”

  As a boy, Jax watched his mother help birth one spring lamb after another, by herself, hour after hour, then shower, cook dinner, and go out dancing with her husband to celebrate their ten-year anniversary. Then, without missing a beat, begin the same cycle the next day. In his book, women weren’t simply strong, they were superhuman gods.

  “Because you’re a woman, alone, at night. Any man worth his salt would make certain you were safe.”

  “Dragon isn’t the chivalrous type.”

  Jax was. He held the door for Skye.

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Or something to eat, if you’re hungry.”

  “No.”

  “Just no?” Jax cursed the loss of his silver tongue when he needed it most.

  “No, thank you.”

  Skye put a key into the door of a rusty tan Ford Escort. She pulled on the handle, to no avail, kicked the already dented metal, and pulled again. The loud creak as she finally gained access sounded ominous, but the car stayed in one piece. Behind the wheel, the engine sputtered to a coughing start.

  Afraid she might slam the door in his face, Jax leaned into the driver’s side.

  “Meet me for lunch. Name the place.”

  Hands gripping the wheel, Skye met his gaze for the first time. Jax lost his ability to breathe. She, coolly unfazed, didn’t miss a beat.

  “You’re cute, but—”

  “Cute?” Nope. No way. Jax refused to hit the friend zone before she gave him a chance for more. “Stray puppy cute? Or, ruggedly handsome cute?”

  Skye let out a tired chuckle.

  “I’ll give you borderline adorable. Nice smile. Great voice. Killer blue eyes. Your butt isn’t bad. However,” she interjected before Jax could take her compliments and run. “I rarely date. And never musicians.”

  “I strive to be the exception to any rule.”

  Her smile lit up the night and for an instant, Jax thought he’d won. Seemed his quick brain and sense of humor weren’t dead after all. A second later, Skye sobered, popping his bubble of self-congratulation.

  “You’ll be gone at the end of the month.”

  “All the more reason to enjoy each other while we can.”

  Skye closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

  “Tempting.”

  “Let me lead you astray. You won’t be sorry.”

  “Yes, I will.” Her eyes snapped open. The sadness he saw was unmistakable, so was the resolve. “You, Jaxon Cross, are a mistake I can’t afford to make.”

  Skye shifted the car into gear, pulled the door shut, and hit the gas. Jax jumped back to avoid the spray of gravel from the wheels, watching as the headlights faded into the distance.

  “Shot you down?” Kane emerged from the shadows, shaking his head. “Why worry about the one woman you can’t have when so many are ready and willing to make your night?”

  “I don’t see you enjoying the perks.”

  “But you’re wrong, my friend.” Kane pulled his zipper shut. “Just said goodbye to a buxom redhead with a very talented mouth. If my luck holds, I’ll say goodnight to her again before the weekend’s over.”

  “Charming.”

  “Says the man who will end the night without an orgasm—unless he rubs one out in the shower.”

  Jax wasn’t jealous, nor did he judge Kane. Hell, he’d been the recipient of a parking lot blowjob on more than one occasion—and enjoyed every second. However, unlike his bandmate, he believed in love.

  What he felt for Skye was too new, too uncertain, for definition. The thought of using another woman to help him forget the one he wanted felt wrong. A disservice to everyone involved.

  “Forget the beautiful Skye and the buxom redhead. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Jax shot Kane a surprised look.

  “Kind of early for you. The sun isn’t up yet.”

  Slinging a companionable arm over Jax’s shoulders, they headed toward the motel.

  “Starting to feel my age, I guess.”

  “An old man of twenty-two.” Jax shook his head in mock sympathy.

  “Twenty-three next month,” Kane corrected. He let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes I feel as though I’ve lived my life in reverse. Old to young. I didn’t feel like a kid until I dropped my baggage and hit the road with you, Beck, and Morgan.”

  Kane’s baggage was his father. A rough character who used his son as a punching bag, the best thing Niles Harrison ever did for his only offspring was to end his drug-addicted life with one last needle in his arm.

  The coroner ruled accidental overdose, a fact nobody disputed. Niles enjoyed ruining other people’s lives too much to take his own.

  Jax lived with the fear Kane carried the same self-destructive tendencies. He wasn’t cruel like his father, or violent. Still, he liked to drink, a lot, and experimented with drugs.

  So far, Kane’s fear of needles kept him from his father’s folly. However, as his tolerance to the lighter stuff rose, there was no telling what road he might take to find a bigger, better high.

  A man had to live his own life, Jax’s father liked to say. The meaning was clear. He worried and did his best to rein in his friend’s need to sail close to the fire. In the end, Kane would make his ow
n choices, his own mistakes. Hopefully, he’d find a way to cage his demons before they got the better of him.

  Kane slammed open the motel room door, flipping on the light switch without consideration for their sleeping bandmates.

  “Damn!” Beck exclaimed from the far bed. Rather than shield his eyes, he pulled the covers over his head. “Have a little respect for the unconscious.”

  “You can sleep when you’re dead,” Kane told him, unsympathetic.

  The room was littered with their personal belongings, a maze of instruments, and sound equipment too valuable to keep in an unsupervised van. Add their meager belongings unpacked in a haphazard manner, and little space was left to maneuver without stubbing a toe or bruising a shin.

  Kane hopped past guitar cases and amplifiers. He dove the final five feet to the bed, hitting the mattress with the full force of his hundred and ninety-pound body. An unsuspecting Beck bounced precariously close to the edge.

  “Just because you outweigh me by a good fifty pounds, don’t think I won’t kick your ass.” Little bothered the unflappable Beck—except when his sleep was interrupted. “I’m slight, but wiry.”

  Unlike Kane, who earned his thick muscles working alongside Jax on the Cross family sheep ranch, Beck was cursed by genetics with a tall, lanky body. Pounding the drums, hours on end since the tender age of seven had done nothing to increase the size of his biceps.

  Encouraged by Morgan, the band’s resident health nut, Beck followed a brutal exercise routine. His stamina was now unparalleled. To his chagrin, and his friends’ amusement, his arms still had the definition of an anemic twelve-year-old boy.

  “Calm down, Beckett.” Kane was the only one in the group who used Beck’s full name. “If it will make you feel any better, I’m so drained, even you could knock me on my ass.”

  “The way you constantly pick at each other, I swear you’re in love.” Morgan’s muffled voice came from the other bed. “I’d tell you to get a room, but we can only afford the one.”