Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  It was her turn to hipcheck him. He laughed and slid his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground so effortlessly that she couldn’t help but squeal. “Put me down, you oaf.”

  “Oaf?” He set her down with a thud. “Not exactly the kind of sweet talk I expected from the girl who is on tap to be Krystal Sword’s first ever female drummer, thanks to me.” He shook his head in mock disappointment and held his hand over his heart, approximately two inches from the beard of one of the members of ZZ Top. He’d found the relic T-shirt at a thrift shop and wore it gleefully in spite of all the shit he took from their classmates. “I’m wounded, truly.”

  She grinned and tried not to think of the reason spots were opening up in the band. Gray was heading away to college in not too long, as was another one of the guys who had a scholarship to a school back east. They wanted to get new people to fill in while the longtime members were off being scholarly. It was a fantastic opportunity for her to get some real band experience.

  But all she could do was focus on the knee-weakening reality of Gray being gone. She couldn’t imagine playing when he wasn’t at her side. They were a team. He brought the best out of her, and now she was going to have to find her best all by herself.

  “You don’t know I’m going to be the drummer. I haven’t auditioned yet. I could blow it.” She stopped and tore open the bag of corn chips, shoving a handful in her mouth. “I’m going to blow it.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You’re gonna nail it.” He took the bag back and set it in the cart. “Look, go read a magazine or something. I’m gonna grab a six-pack and pay for this stuff.”

  “Get me a—”

  “A Sprite. Yeah, yeah. I know you, Edwards. Now go read about giving the perfect BJ in Cosmo or something.” His teasing grin as he shoved her away made her laugh.

  Dang, get caught just one time reading a dirty article and a girl was branded for life.

  “Fine. Push your own damn cart.” Still grinning, she wandered to the front of the Grab ‘n Go and rifled through the rack of magazines. Nothing caught her eye, at least not of the magazine variety.

  She ventured to the line of toy vending machines and played with her bamboo initial necklace, a holdover from her old life. She’d been wanting something new to replace it. A sign of a fresh start. But cash wasn’t exactly plentiful, especially now that it was getting close to the beginning of the new school year. She’d need to buy supplies soon, and she needed to ration the money the Duffys gave her. She didn’t want them to think she was some kind of spendthrift.

  And man, she wanted one of these stupid guitar pick necklaces. A dollar a chance with the giant claw. She sucked at this game, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

  It’s just junk. You wear junk, baby girl, people will think you’re junk.

  Forcing her mom’s voice out of her head, she dug around in her change purse and finally came up with her last four quarters. She was just about to slip them into the slot when a rickety grocery cart rolled up behind her and bumped her gently in the butt.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  “It’s nothing.” She started to laugh it off and turn away, but Gray grabbed her arm.

  “Liar. Looks like something to me. You want one of these?” He tapped on the machine and dug out his quarters, dumping them in the change slot before she had a chance to pretend she really didn’t want that purple guitar pick necklace.

  It was cheesy. Flimsy. It’d probably turn her skin green and break in a week.

  But she wanted it with all her heart.

  “Yes.” Her voice came out in a whisper, as if she were confessing something shameful. The foster kid liked to drape herself in junk jewelry and pretend she wore diamonds.

  “Then it shall be yours.” He shot her a cocky grin and braced his hand on the lever attached to the claw. A few deft manipulations later, he zeroed in on his target and dragged it out from the sea of plastic egg-enclosed treasures with a crow of victory that any sports hero would’ve recognized.

  The sweet taste of success.

  Still grinning, he plucked it out of the tray and popped open the top. He turned to her and held it out for her inspection. “There you go, baby. All yours.”

  Every time he called her baby her heart rioted. Sometimes she didn’t think her skin and bones could hold it inside, not when his twinkling gray eyes settled on hers. She took the container and dug out her prize. She wouldn’t cry. If she kept on smiling, he would never be able to guess how a small hunk of crap could somehow crystallize the totality of her life and everything she wanted and would never have.

  “Thank you.”

  “Turn around. Let me put it on you. Hold up your hair.”

  Pivoting, she did as he asked. He slipped it around her neck and she lifted her hair higher so he could fumble with the clasp. Then she turned back to him and gripped the tiny guitar pick between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said again, voice breaking.

  His smile fell away. “Jazz? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She started to move away but he grabbed her arm and cupped her cheek in his other hand.

  “Tell me.”

  She shook her head but the momentum only made the words spill out faster. “I used to save my allowance for this stuff. I’d pile it up in my jewelry box because I didn’t have anything else and I wanted to be a princess.” She smiled. “Every little girl’s dream, right?”

  “You are a princess.”

  Her smile wavered. “It didn’t matter that I had holes in my shoes, because I had this fake bling.” She stared at the grimy floor to avoid meeting his gaze. “My mom found it one day and threw it all out. Called it trash. She said I was trash for wearing it.” She dug the other necklace out from under her shirt. “This is the only one I managed to save. The rest she covered in spaghetti sauce after she burned our dinner.”

  He closed his fingers around hers. “It’s beautiful. J is the best letter.”

  She turned her face away. “Thanks for not laughing at it.” Or me.

  “Jazz.” He nudged her chin back with the tip of his finger and lowered his head to hers. “Someday I’m going to buy you that bling. I promise.”

  A harsh laugh escaped her. She didn’t know where it came from and couldn’t figure out how to shove it back down. “Why would you do that?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbled in his stubbled throat. “When I do it, you’ll know why.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Now

  Being summoned to conference room A at Ripper Records three days later didn’t surprise Jazz in the slightest.

  What did surprise her? That it had taken Lila that long to pounce.

  When Lila hadn’t snagged them the morning after the Tribute show, Jazz had been relieved. Maybe she hadn’t been paying that much attention to her and Gray’s show antics. Though Lila attended every show she could as well as making sure there was ample footage for dissection later, it was dark behind the drum kit and she might not have been eagle-eyed enough to spot Gray kissing her.

  Maybe and might weren’t offering her a whole lot of comfort at the moment.

  Lila finally sailed in, a sunny smile on her face. “Morning, children.” She held up a silver decanter and set a couple of mugs on the table. “Coffee?”

  “That shit is poison,” Nick muttered.

  Simon kicked him under the table. “Since when? You drink it constantly. And I’m pretty sure it’s less poisonous than those cancer sticks of yours.”

  “I meant this particular coffee is poison, and keep your damn feet to yourself, Kagan.”

  Lila ignored them both and took her seat at the head of the table. She shrugged off her shoulder bag and withdrew her iPad, setting it before her. “So. What’s new?”

  They all looked at each other, silently communicating about who would be the one to speak. Deak, as usual, stepped up.

  He cleared his throat. “We’ve come up with a lot of good, usable material in our time away, both in our individual groups and
collectively. I’m assuming you saw the footage of our show at Tribute. It went well.”

  “Yes, of course, I saw it. That’s my job.” Lila scrolled her finger across the tablet’s screen and smiled. “Your job is a bit different. You were given certain tasks and offered certain admonitions yet with my little eye, I spy that these were not followed.”

  Jazz shot a glance at Gray in the seat beside her, and he slid his hand under the arm of his chair to link his fingers with hers. Such a small thing, but so important.

  “Lila, we—” Gray began.

  “Don’t bother explaining. I can see.” She folded her hands on top of her tablet. “What I see is amazing chemistry that I want to exploit like a motherfucker.”

  Jazz blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. And don’t pretend to be shocked. I’m hardly the first person to be blown away by what I saw on stage.” Lila lifted her iPad and started scrolling again. “Check out YoloFan’s YouTube clip, entitled ‘Motherfucking Oblivion Hotness,’ for example.”

  “YoloFan? That sounds like a true genius.” If Nick had rolled his eyes any harder, he would’ve dislocated something.

  “Regardless, Gray and Jazz’s chemistry is exactly what this band has been needing. The magic ingredient.”

  Gray clamped his fingers tighter around Jazz’s and leaned forward. “Look, I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but we’re not going to be ‘exploiting’ anything. This isn’t a game to us.”

  “You think my paycheck is a game, Mr. Duffy? Au contraire. I take it very seriously.”

  Jazz glanced at Gray and lifted her eyebrows when he would’ve spoken again. He fell silent, giving her the floor.

  “We realize that the timing of this could be construed as…inconvenient for the band, and we certainly don’t want to be a distraction, but—”

  “You’re the best kind of distraction, Jasmine. Let me read some of the comments on YoloFan’s clip. By the way, over two-hundred-thousand hits in two days for a show at a venue like Tribute is impressive.”

  “YoloFan can kiss my ass.”

  “Nicholas, are you really that upset at not being in the spotlight? Kindly hush.” Lila slid the iPad toward Deak. “Actually, why don’t you read some of them aloud, so no one thinks I’m stacking the deck.”

  Deacon picked up the iPad and started to read silently. Then one brow lifted. “When Gray climbed up on those drums to kiss Jazz, I swear I had an orgasm. Like…right then and there. Instant combustion.”

  Gray grinned. “Jeez, man, I never knew you cared.”

  Deak shook his head, laughing, before sliding the tablet back to Lila. “I’m not reading those out loud. Those chicks are seriously horny.”

  “Are you sure they’re all chicks?” Jazz propped an elbow on the table and wiggled her fingers, indicating for Lila to pass the iPad to her. “There has to be some guys in the crowd, right?”

  “There are. Men are excited too.”

  “Fabulous,” Gray muttered, tightening his grip on Jazz’s hand.

  “Now Jasmine has become an accessible fantasy to them. The male mind works in fascinating ways.”

  “You can say that again.” Jazz flicked Gray a sidelong glance and smiled when his broody expression never changed. “We’re happy you’re not displeased that we’re together.”

  “Yes, but we really wouldn’t have done a fucking thing different if you were.”

  “Shush.” Jazz squeezed his hand. “He doesn’t mean that, Lila.”

  “Sure he does. He’s in love and wants the whole world to know it.”

  Gray never looked away from Jazz as he brought her hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. “That about sums it up.”

  “Aww,” Simon said, grinning. “That’s totally adorbz.”

  Jazz took a shuddery breath and would’ve responded in kind if Lila hadn’t cut her off.

  “I agree totally with your plan to demonstrate it to the world. Clearly, you two have explosive chemistry, and that shouldn’t be kept behind closed doors. Neither should ‘Sugar Kiss’ be under wraps until the album comes out.” She consulted her tablet. “I spoke to Donovan yesterday and we’re of one mind. ‘Sugar Kiss’ should be the first single, and we want it out soon as possible.”

  “Say what?” Nick flashed her an incredulous look. “The album’s not due to drop until—”

  “June. Yes. Which is a damn long time for Oblivion to fade out of the public eye.”

  “I thought that’s what these scattered club dates were about before we went into the studio,” Simon said, spinning one of Lila’s coffee cups between his palms.

  She snatched it away from him and set it beside Deak’s elbow. “That’s china, Kagan, and those are hand-painted roses. Moving on. Yes, you’re right. And that is a good plan until you can get back on the road later this year. But nowadays, many artists are dropping advance singles. In fact, I want you to give me another one I can release in a few months. Preferably a ballad.”

  “‘Finally’ would be perfect.” Gray spoke up, his attention focused on Lila. “I’ve been working on that one on and off for the last week.”

  “Uh, hello, why didn’t you mention it to me?” Nick asked.

  “Or me,” Jazz put in.

  Gray’s cheeks tinged pink. “Because it wasn’t ready yet. Now it almost is.”

  “Almost,” Lila said. “Once it is—and once your band has given their go-ahead—I’d like to hear it. In the meantime, I want to get going with ‘Sugar Kiss’. Donovan and I had a strategy session and we have some preliminary ideas for the video. Specifically, we’d like it to feature Jasmine, covered in sugar. Or a sugar-like substance, since I think that might be difficult to work with under hot lights.”

  Silence descended around the table. Lila, however, didn’t seem to notice.

  “We think conceptually that this might be just the song to shoot the band into superstardom. Think of what ‘Cherry Pie’ did to Warrant back in—”

  “What? Now we’re taking our cues from freaking hair bands?” Nick slapped his palms on the table. “Newsflash, lady, Oblivion isn’t Poison rebooted. Simon’s lips are way too small.”

  “Hey.” Simon touched his fingers to his mouth. “Don’t hate on the pout.”

  Deak leaned forward. “Lila, I’m not sure this is the direction we want to proceed. ‘Sugar Kiss’ is already an extremely sexual song. To add a salacious video—”

  “I’m certain we don’t want to proceed that way,” Gray snapped. “Jazz isn’t a sex doll.”

  Lila pursed her lips. “A doll, huh? I didn’t think of that angle.”

  Abruptly, Gray let go of Jazz’s hand and crossed his arms. “Not. Happening.”

  Jazz twined her fingers together in her lap and tried not to let Gray’s sudden distance bother her. She understood he didn’t want her to be sexualized, but what did he expect, writing a song like that? That they’d braid her hair and have her skip down a hill of flowers like in Mary Poppins?

  “This is your song,” she said quietly, unsurprised when he didn’t look her way. “You came up with it, now you’re mad that Lila wants to capitalize on it?”

  She stared at his stony countenance and frowned. He’d totally shut down.

  “It’s not entirely his song,” Nick said. “I improved upon it. Simon named it. And yes, it’s highly sexual, and yes, the crowd loved it. But couldn’t we go with a different concept than the typical naked chick vid? Didn’t that jump the shark in, oh, about 1992?”

  “What do you propose then? Jasmine in a pinafore, maybe, and the rest of you in suits? I know, I know.” Lila snapped her fingers. “How about Robert Palmer-style videos? Hot babes in classy black dresses? Then it just implies sex without pushing the envelope?”

  “Who the fuck is Robert Palmer?” Simon asked.

  Nick ignored him. “So you want us to be like every other band out there.”

  “No, I want you to deliver on the promise you made by creating a song like ‘Sugar Kiss’. Jasmine is a beaut
iful woman. There’s no reason she should be hidden behind—”

  “I don’t want her to hide, but I also don’t think she should be objectified.”

  “More objectified than what you did by writing that kind of song?” Jazz shoved her hands under her thighs so she wouldn’t lean over and whack Gray in the head. As much as she loved him, he could be a pigheaded chauvinist at times. Sure, it was so wrong for her to decide to be sexual—if she did, she still hadn’t agreed to do it yet—but it was fine if he made that decision for her. “Maybe you shouldn’t have shared that with Nick if you really wanted to keep me under lock and key, huh?”

  “I didn’t share anything with Nick that you hadn’t decided to share first.”

  She sucked in a breath. The pain came fast, as it always did. Pain that she’d hurt him, even unintentionally. And the deeper pain that the threesome they’d had would remain a splinter in their sides, a weapon to be dragged out in arguments probably for the rest of their lives. “It always comes back to that with you, doesn’t it?”

  “Kids,” Nick said from the other end of the table. “I think we’re getting off-topic.”

  “It comes back to it because everything seems to keep shoving it in my face. And no, I didn’t share it with Nick. I was going to,” he acknowledged, “but I hadn’t gotten that far. I was still writing it when he grabbed my notebook and called Simon.”

  She pushed her hands through her hair, sending the beads at the ends of her braids clinking. When she’d done them that morning, she’d grinned at her reflection in the mirror, so stupidly happy that she couldn’t stop from beaming at herself. Gray had come into the bathroom and hugged her from behind, pressing kisses on the back of her neck she could still feel if she concentrated.

  Now they were arguing about nothing.

  “I don’t really want to be powdered in sugar,” she admitted.

  “I don’t have a problem with it,” Simon said, laughing when Nick kicked him again. “I meant me. I’d be fine with being turned into a piece of fried dough. As long as there’s a hot girl to lick me clean.”