by Quinn, Cari
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.”
“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 and I 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.”
Lila ignored him. “A little of this type of gossip doesn’t hurt the band. Too much starts to get the focus off the music and on your backstage antics. That makes it my problem, especially when I think those antics have a very real possibility of causing serious trouble with Donovan’s investment.” She shoved the newspaper back in her briefcase. “I mentioned splitting you up to work on the album. After last night’s events, I’ve changed the bunking assignments. The five of you need to be able to work together like a well-oiled unit, and I want you to focus on what you’re here for—the music.” She nailed Nick with a brief look. “And only the music.”
“So let me get this straight.” Simon braced a fist on the table and squinted out of bleary eyes. “As long as we don’t marry anyone or screw around with our bandmates, we can fuck anyone we want?”
Lila appeared to weigh his words then nodded. “Essentially, yes.”
A grin split Simon’s face as he relaxed in his chair. “Sounds like a great deal to me.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you say that. You, Jazz, and Deacon will be spending some quality time at the inn and spa. Which leaves the cabin and—”
Gray shot to his feet. “No. You’re not putting me with him.”
Nick matched his stance on the other side of the table. “Absolutely fucking not.”
Lila gave them a bland smile. “Perhaps you missed my memo that these assignments were not optional. You two represent the biggest problem in this band. Therefore, you will take this time alone to get your shit straight. Alone, without any pretty drummers to distract you from what’s important.”
“You have no right to do this,” Jazz said, her chin quivering. “We’re adults. How can you try to run our personal lives?”
“From the looks of things, you’re an adult, Jasmine. These two? That remains to be seen.” Lila planted her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t give a flying fig who you bring into your bed, unless it has to do with this band. Then it becomes my mess to clean up. Right now? The three of you have mess all over you.”
“Lila, I’m not sure exiling Gray and Nick is the answer.” Deak tucked his hands under his biceps, his expression tense. “Maybe I should go with them, leave Simon and Jazz on their own.”
“Oh yeah, now that sounds like a recipe for fun. Living with Gray and having Saint Deacon around to run interference.” Nick shook his head. “Let me go get a pack of enemas from the drugstore and I’ll be all set.”
“Thank you for the offer, Deacon, but I have my reasons for the arrangements I’ve made. You’ll have three club shows during your time away to keep you in front of the public eye, and so I can evaluate the success of this experiment. Then, after you’ve each bonded within your individual groups, you’ll get a weekend all together to solidify the progress you’ve made. At that point you’ll be booked for serious studio time.” She consulted her tablet. “You all have two hours to head home to pack and be ready to leave. A car will pick each group up at that time. Bring only the essentials and anything you need to work.”
Deacon frowned. “What about Harper?”
“What about her? Is she a member of this band?”
“The guy should be allowed to bring his wife, for God’s sake,” Gray said, unable to stay silent any longer. “She’s pregnant.”
“I’m well aware of that fact. She’s not due for six months, correct?”
Deacon gave a reluctant nod.
“Then she’s fine to stay home for a couple of weeks while her husband travels to a neighboring town for a work trip. That’s what this is. It’s not for recreation.” Lila’s smile turned feral. “In case I didn’t make myself clear about that last point, let me spell it out. Nick, Gray, you’re both to stay away from Jasmine outside the boundaries of Oblivion business. Keep your hands—and your other parts—to yourselves. Are we clear?”
Gray tightened his jaw until his bones cracked. “If we say no?”
“Then you’re choosing to put your spot in Oblivion at risk.” She consulted her tablet. “Pursuant to section 2.3 in the contract you all willingly signed with Ripper Records, you are to abide by a morality clause that includes, but is not limited to, restricting behavior that jeopardizes the position of the band in the public eye. That refers to excessive intoxication, drug offenses and personal involvements with other band members, et cetera. It’s all right here.”
It wasn’t the personal involvement section that shut Gray up, but the drug offenses. If he skidded on any more thin ice, he’d end up falling through the cracks.
Nick glared at Deacon. “Yeah, what was that about this being our dream contract, Papa Smurf?”
“Hey, if you could keep your dick in your pants, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“His dick hasn’t been out of his pants with me.” Jazz got to her feet, her cheeks flaring pink. “Not recently anyway. All we did last night was practice. I thought that was what we were supposed to do. But I guess I’m the problem here, so I’ll just go.”
Gray rose, his hands in fists. When it came to protecting Jazz, logic went out the window. “If she goes, I go. End of story.”
“Newsflash, your contract says neither of you are going anywhere.” Lila sighed. “Look, people, just try this my way. See what you come back with and we’ll go from
there. Okay?” She glanced from one member of the band to the next, landing on Gray last. “Okay?” she repeated softly.
Gray focused on Jazz. She lurked by the door, her eyes huge and stricken, her cheeks still flushed. She gripped the guitar pick necklace he’d given her like a lifeline. “You willing to do this, J? It’s your call.”
She shut her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I’m in.”
Gray returned his attention to Lila. “Guess we’re going on a field trip.”
Thirteen
Then
“So what do you think of Shadyside High?”
Jazz smiled at her new friend Stacey and tucked her leg up closer to her chest on her new bed. So much new. Mrs. Duffy had taken her shopping last week to buy stuff to redecorate Brent’s bedroom and she’d gotten to choose a bedroom set, rainbow sheets and a dresser for her early Christmas gifts. Not thrift store finds either but brand new.
She could hardly believe all the wonderful things happening to her. Now this. She’d finally made a friend at school. It had only taken three months. Stacey was super popular too and had promised to introduce Jazz to all of her cool friends, including Toby Daniels, last year’s prom king. Stacey claimed to know “for a fact” that Toby had been asking questions about Jazz.
Jazz figured it was too good to be true, but she didn’t care because she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. School and her music kept her busy enough. Still, it was nice to pretend Toby might’ve taken notice of her for a positive reason instead of a negative one.
“I like it. It’s too huge, though. Kind of overwhelming. I only stopped getting lost on the way to my locker just two weeks ago—” Jazz broke off and frowned as Stacey pointed at Jazz’s knee. Today’s artwork included a G-clef and a stack of books. “Yeah, I draw on myself when I get bored.” She tried to laugh. “Weird, huh?”
“A little, but you’re like, creative, so that’s part of the deal, right?” Stacey flopped on her back and spread out her arms. “Wow, this room is just so amazing. You must freak living here.”
