by Cari Quinn
“Of course, honey.” Mrs. Duffy smiled. “This is your home too.”
“That’s just it.” Jazz set down her fork to avoid attacking the succulent meat like a wild animal.
She’d gone through enough lean times in her life to have to struggle not to leap on food when it was presented to her. At the Duffys’, it was presented often. Breakfasts were luxe affairs with mounds of scrambled eggs, stacks of sausage, piles of crispy bacon and jugs of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Dinners were the same.
And Thanksgiving dinner blew both out of the water. Food seemed to weigh down the table. She’d poured a moat of gravy around her turkey and Mrs. Duffy had only laughed.
“What is it, honey?”
“You’ve made me feel like I really belong here. I’ve been shuffled so many places I didn’t think that was possible anymore. I just wanted to say thank you. For me, it really is Thanksgiving.”
“Aww, how sweet,” Brent said under his breath. When she shot a look his way, he smiled and forked up more potatoes.
Gray squeezed her hand. “You do belong, J. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
J. He so rarely called her anything but Jazz, though when he did she always got a warm burst inside her belly. “Apparently a lot, G,” she teased, lowering her head.
“Aw, y’all are so adorable together,” Brent put in just before Mrs. Duffy spoke.
“Jasmine, sweetie, we love you. You know that. Mr. Duffy and I always wanted a daughter.”
Jazz only smiled, so moved she couldn’t speak.
Brent waited until Mr. and Mrs. Duffy headed into the kitchen to get pie and coffee—and probably to sneak a kiss, since those two were so lovey-dovey it made Jazz blush—to drop his next zinger.
“Gray, would you say you feel brotherly toward our cute little Jazzy?” He tipped his head to the side. “Because I’m not so sure. I think I’d call it something else.”
“Shut up,” Gray said, voice low.
Jazz frowned and reached for her water glass. What was Brent getting at? He couldn’t mean what it sounded like. Gray didn’t have feelings for her. That was perfectly obvious to her every time he brought home some new chick.
Brent smirked. “Jazzy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t interrupt a nice meal with such talk. Guess I’m just choking on all the hormones in the air.”
Gray shot to his feet. “You want to take this outside?”
Brent giggled like a teenage girl despite the fact he was over six-feet tall and built like a linebacker. “Oh man. This is hilarious. You’re really torqued.”
“Gray, sit down,” Jazz said, still not getting what was going on. Brent was just being a jerk as usual but why was Gray getting so pissed off? “Your parents will be back in a minute.”
Gray didn’t seem to be listening to her anymore. “Her name is Jazz, not Jazzy,” he said to his brother, opening and closing his fists at his sides.
“Is that so?” Brent glanced at Jazz. “You have any problem with me calling you Jazzy?”
She bit her lip, her gaze drifting to Gray again. She didn’t want them to fight today of all days. This was a day for family, and she didn’t ever want to get between the two brothers after the Duffys had been so wonderful to her. “N-no, I guess not.”
“You heard her.” Brent dragged his chair closer and threw his arm over her shoulders. His breath smelled disgustingly of beer and chewing tobacco. “She likes whatever I give her, don’t you, Jazzy?”
Caught in the trap of his arm, she tried to smile for Gray’s benefit. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s not argue, okay?”
It took Mr. and Mrs. Duffy’s reappearance for Gray to drop back into his chair. His gray gaze defiant, he snatched her hand, pulling her closer to him and away from Brent.
Brent only chuckled and let her go.
That time, he let her go.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Now
The hour of reckoning was at hand. Oblivion was about to be broken up and sent to opposite camps—and one member of their ranks was nowhere in sight. As expected.
“Where the hell is Gray?” Lila demanded.
Everyone turned toward Jazz. She pursed her lips and dragged out the speech she’d rehearsed when numerous texts to Gray had gone unanswered.
“He’s very sorry, but—” she began.
“Don’t bother.” Lila set her tablet down on the long table in conference room C at Ripper Records. Framed gold albums lined the walls around them, shooting off sparks that would blind Jazz if she dared look away from Lila’s furious blue gaze. “Evidently Gray thinks you’re his happy little parrot, but perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough last night. This meeting is not optional. Either he gets his ass here now or he’s suspended from Oblivion.”
“Hold it,” Deacon said, pressing one big palm to the tabletop. “Aren’t you being a little hasty? He had a…serious issue come up.” He raised his brows at Jazz as if it was her fault he was forced to cover for her best friend. “He’ll be here as soon as possible. Won’t he, pix?”
Jazz darted another glance at her phone. She didn’t know what to do. She’d texted Gray twenty times, the messages becoming increasingly frantic the closer it became to eight a.m. He hadn’t replied.
The fact that he wasn’t there because he was probably getting laid had ceased to be important in light of his being kicked out of the band. She couldn’t do this without him. He was the one who’d pushed her to make something of her music when she’d been content to play just for the sake of playing.
Then, like a miracle, her cell vibrated with an incoming text.
“It’s him.” She blinked at the words on the screen until they made sense.
I’m outside. Pay my cab? I’ll pay you back.
She scrambled up from her seat, waving the phone. “He’s outside. I’ve got to go get him. I’ll be right back.”
“Jasmine, you’re under the same warning he is,” Lila said. “This is serious business and I need everyone here in the next ten or we’re going to have a problem.”
The not-so-subtle threat landed a barb in Jazz’s chest but she shook it off and moved to the door. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Outside, she found Gray leaning against a yellow cab. He wore the same clothes as last night, though they were more wrinkled, and his hair stood straight up. The bags under his eyes were so puffy they looked painful. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t not think about why he looked so exhausted.
Worst of all, the nearer she got, the more she smelled the perfume that clung to him. Not the cheap kind either. Nope, this was high-class scent.
Even after last night, she’d tried to pretend that he hadn’t gone off to fuck that blonde. Perhaps there was another explanation. He wouldn’t leave her high and dry for a simple booty call. Maybe that was where her logic had broken down. What was between him and that woman wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have left her in the lurch for someone insignificant.
So that meant she didn’t need to make a move at all. He was taken. She’d had her chance and she’d wasted it. Period.
Ignoring the fist that wrapped around her throat, she pulled out some bills and thrust them through the open window of the cab. Then before Gray could speak, she turned and headed back toward the building.
It was his choice to follow her or not. She’d done as much as she could.
“Jazz, wait.”
She didn’t stop walking until his brutally strong fingers clamped around her upper arm. “What?” she snapped.
Obviously surprised by her tone, he let his hand drop and shoved it into the pocket of his baggy jeans. “I wanted to explain—”
She started walking again. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Yes, there is. I’ll pay you back. I just ended up short.”
If she didn’t look at that face she’d loved so long that her pulse sped every time she saw him, she’d be okay. She’d get through this. “Yeah, whatever. It’s no big deal.”
&n
bsp; “Is that what you said to Nick about kissing me last night?”
Stunned, she stopped and stared at the splashy record company logo on the building while she struggled not to let the lid off her temper. By nature, she wasn’t a volatile person. She worked hard to be happy, to keep the demons at bay. She fought to count her blessings rather than her disappointments. But Gray affected her like no one else ever had.
“You have a lot of nerve,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice in case it came out as a scream.
“Do I? Apparently not enough, because I should’ve done that years ago.” He grabbed her arm again, and this time she slapped him back, nailing him in the chest hard enough that he immediately released her.
“Should’ve done what years ago? Ditched me to run off with some blonde who takes baths in perfume? Consider this your invitation to do just that.”
“And if I do, then what? You get a free pass to go back to giving Nick closet blow jobs?”
Before she could toss back a response—or even wipe the shock off her face that he knew about the blow jobs she used to give Nick before shows to help him with his stage fright—he held up his hands, palms out. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. It’s none of your fucking business when you’ve spent the night balling some babe.”
“It wasn’t my business long before last night,” he said quietly, the words ripping equally quiet gashes inside her. They wouldn’t gush blood but trickle it innocuously until she bled out.
“Nick and I haven’t been anything in months.” She shut her eyes. “You ended us.”
“Oh yeah, how did I do that?”
“By changing what we had. It wasn’t fun anymore after you—after we—” She couldn’t finish.
After they’d had that stupid threesome, she and Nick had broken up and it had opened up immeasurable stress fractures in her relationship with Gray. Their situation was an even bigger question mark than what she’d had with Nick.
“What?” he murmured, stepping closer. Their bodies brushed and she shivered, hating the effect he had on her. Fighting it only bought her so much time. The longer he pressed his advantage, the closer to crumbling she came.
“Nothing.”
“Jazz.” He brushed careless fingers over her cheek and she swung her gaze to his, unable to check the tears brimming in her eyes. They seemed to catch him off-guard. He opened his mouth to speak then clenched his jaw and shook his head, backing off. “This isn’t the time.”
“No, it’s not.”
“But you should know that the papers and the TV shows have picked up on the story.”
“What story?”
His head came up but he still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Don’t play games with me.”
Nerves began to flicker in her belly. “What are you talking about? Tell me.”
“About you and Nick. How he smacked your ass and the way the two of you were cozied up in the club last night after I left.”
She choked out a laugh. “Some newspaper actually wasted ink to print that? Wow, they’re getting desperate.”
“There’s more. On the television, they were talking about our supposed love triangle breaking up the band.”
“Love triangle, my purple push-up bra. A triangle usually means three interested parties. Nick and I went home to practice ‘Captured’ after you took off. We didn’t have sex or anything approaching it. In fact, I didn’t even let him share my grape soda. So whatever.” She started walking up the pathway, unsurprised when he fell into step beside her. That he reached out to take her hand did surprise her—mainly because she let him.
“If I jumped to conclusions, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, too late now.”
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Why is it too late, baby?”
God, he couldn’t call her baby or rub her hand or make her wish for even a second that maybe she hadn’t lost her chance with him. Her chest hurt too much to take it right now.
“I smell her all over you,” she said tiredly. “Look, forget it. Let’s just go inside and deal with Lila. She’s pretty mad at you and now she’s annoyed at me too.”
“I didn’t have sex with her. She pushed several times and I said no. This last time, I caught a cab that I couldn’t afford from her place rather than spend another minute in her company.”
“Right. I’m just supposed to accept that, no questions asked.”
“That’s why you’re so angry with me? You think I nailed her?”
She had to laugh or she’d cry. “You left me in the middle of a band meeting after promising you’d rehearse a song with me that you knew I was nervous about doing. Then you stayed out all night and show up here in yesterday’s clothes, smelling like you rolled around in Blondie Boop’s bed for hours. How do you expect me to feel? Elated?”
“I guess maybe I didn’t realize you’d care that much.” He tipped back his head to stare at the cloudless sky. “Whatever you think is going on between me and Cricket, it’s not like that. I swear to you that we aren’t lovers.”
Some small part of her rejoiced. The rest only longed to ask more questions. Then what are you? Why did you chase after her last night? When did she start having this hold on you?
But asking would prolong this awkwardness, and they had to get inside before they both had to look for new jobs. “Okay.”
“Do you believe me?” He fixed his gaze on her face. The intensity behind his storm-cloud eyes surprised her into a rapid nod.
“Yeah.” She was trying. For him, she would never stop trying.
“Can we start over?”
If only. She would erase much of the past year if given the chance. “Before which part?”
He scuffed his boot over the ground. “Before we stopped being best friends and started trying to find ways to hurt each other.”
Jazz nudged her hip against his to make him stop scuffing the ground. Fidgeting tended to be his number one evasive maneuver, and today, she wasn’t tolerating it.
It was past time he faced their reality.
“I cover for you when you ditch meetings. I make up lies and I pretend I’m not bleeding inside when you don’t even give me the courtesy of being honest. If that’s not being a friend, maybe I don’t understand the concept.”
He twined his fingers through hers and brought their joined hands to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m sorry.”
She wanted to stay angry. Hell, she had every right to be pissed for a good long while and to nurse her hurt feelings even longer. But she loved him too much. “Me too,” she said finally, offering him a weak smile. “Now you better look lively because Lila’s ready to barbeque your balls and use them to garnish her pot roast.”
His laughter rumbling against her knuckles smoothed over the worst of her irritation. She simply didn’t have it in her to stay mad at Gray for long. Whether that was her greatest strength or her biggest weakness, she didn’t know.
“Thanks for the advice. And for having my back.”
“Always.” It was sterling truth. She would always protect him.
Even if it broke her in two.
* § *
Evidently the length of a conference table still wasn’t enough of a buffer from a peeved Lila Shawcross.
“Where the hell have you been, Grayson?”
Before he could answer, a small notepad pinged off his chest and hit the table. “Let me make my displeasure clear. I don’t appreciate people walking out of my meetings. I appreciate even less those who make up bullshit stories about dead grandmothers when you smell like you’ve been in the back of some groupie’s van all night. You’re lucky to have someone who’s willing to cover for you.” She shifted her attention to Jazz. “But make no mistake, if you go down, you’ll bring her down with you. I’m assuming you don’t want to do that?”
“Jazz isn’t my keeper.” He lifted his chin and met Lila’s gaze head-on. “She has no say over my choices, which means you can
’t hold her responsible for them.”
“You might want to clue her in to that fact. And that one over there,” she jutted her chin in Nick’s direction, “because he was just as willing to recite your excuses.”
Gray glanced at Nick and got a flat stare in return. That look told him exactly what he’d suspected. Nick hadn’t been covering for him, but Jazz.
It always came back to Jazz.
“Your bandmate’s willingness to help you is a surprise in light of what came across my desk this morning.” Lila popped open her slim soft-sided briefcase and pulled out a newspaper, slapping it on the table face-up. The picture of Nick’s hand on Jazz’s ass seemed to have grown even larger. “The airwaves are blowing up with this love triangle bullshit, and I want it stopped now. Are we clear?”
Nick leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re our record company rep. Don’t you think you’re overstepping your boundaries just a smidge?”
“Time for a reality check. Your success as a band partially depends on your ability to get the girls’ panties wet. Sorry, Jasmine,” she said without sparing Jazz a glance. Her attention remained fixated on Nick. “That’s why we don’t want all of you marrying off too soon, because every time one of you gets hitched, your popularity slips. You’re too new of a band to risk much of that. One band member married works. He’s the good, steady one that the little girls find safe. The rest of you are the sex appeal that fuels your rise up the charts.”
Nick’s lips twitched. “I get it. You’re afraid Vapor over there and me want to marry Jazz. That’d be some story.” He draped an arm over the back of his chair and sprawled out his legs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not planning on marrying anyone. Ever.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” Lila snapped, “and you’re not impressing anyone here with your big-shot routine.”
Nick’s smile gleamed for an instant before he held up a hand in apology. “Sorry. I’ll try harder next time.”
