Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  What was coming next wouldn’t be good.

  “About five-six, long blonde hair, blue eyes. Fucking stacked—”

  “Mind your manners, asshole.” Gray stepped in front of Jazz as if Snake had thrown an actual punch her way rather than a metaphorical one. She didn’t even think she was his intended target, just a casualty of his war with Nick, Deacon and Simon. Oblivion would always be their band, and he’d never stop seeing her and Gray as outsiders.

  But at least before she’d had Gray on her side. Always. Right now, despite his solid frame blocking her view of Snake, she felt very much alone.

  “Gray.” She nudged him back but he didn’t move. So she sidestepped him and slapped her best I’m fine smile on, the one that had served her well from facing her first foster mother at twelve to looking Mrs. Duffy in the eye at sixteen after her oldest son had tried to rape her.

  She would never break in front of anyone.

  “No, you shouldn’t have to listen to his obnoxious BS. He came here just to start trouble. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s—”

  “Oh no? I saw you get in her car, fuckwit. Sweet black vintage Mustang, tricked out rims. She waved something at you, and you took it like the greedy bastard you are.” His smile turned lethal. “See, thing is, bud, we travel in the same circles. Carson kids never manage to make it too far out of the hood, do they?”

  “I’m not from fucking Carson.” The disdain in Gray’s voice turned the chill in her bones to ice. “Try about twenty miles north, asshole.”

  “Oh, right. You’re the suburban rich kid who started slumming with the cute little foster kid who’s so good at shaking her…sticks.” Snake smiled and narrowed his eyes on Jazz. “You like to play with powder too, sweetness? Is that what they teach you up north?”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Gray went flying at Snake so fast that Jazz barely had time to get out of the way.

  Stunned, she stumbled into the side table near the door, righting it and herself in time to hear Nick heave a sigh of epic proportions before he waded into the fray. Gray had the surprise advantage because he’d attacked Snake with a damn near flying tackle, but Snake outweighed him by a good forty pounds and was now showing that by shoving his meaty fists into Gray’s ribs. Nick muscled his way between them, finally managing to separate them just as Jazz grabbed the frosted hurricane lamp on the table and swung it, nearly hitting Nick in the face.

  “Hey, watch it,” Nick yelled, ducking just in time.

  “Sorry. So sorry.”

  She would’ve dashed around him and taken a cheap shot at Snake while Nick had a hand on his chest, but the blood blooming on Gray’s white T-shirt snagged her attention before she could. She dropped the lamp on the table and rushed at Gray, dragging him back with her into the living room.

  “Where are you hurt? Where did he hit you?” Even as the questions burst from her lips she saw the source of his bleeding. His nose gushed like a fire hydrant, the thick red liquid pouring out so fast that she choked out a cry.

  “Get him out of here,” she screamed at Nick.

  “Fuckin’ nosebleed, huh?” Snake called from behind them, his disgust palpable. “I barely touched the bastard’s pretty face. Goddamn cokehead.”

  The words drove nails into her back, striking soft tissue that gave way from the pressure. She clutched Gray’s shirt tighter and pushed him down on the couch, blocking them out. Snake was just throwing taunts. More nasty shit like the stuff he’d tossed out a few minutes ago. All he wanted to do was hurt them.

  It wasn’t real.

  None of this was real.

  She fell to her knees in front of Gray and dragged off her shirt, beyond caring about the catcalls coming from the front hall. Nick’s voice rang out, loud and sharp, as he tried to force Snake to leave. Snake jeered about “pretty white tits” and she didn’t so much as flinch. Nor did she cringe when he mentioned tabloids and headlines and singing his little heart out.

  None of it made one iota of difference right now.

  With trembling hands, she pressed the material to Gray’s nose and instructed him to lean back, her voice gentle in direct counterpoint to the harshness that surrounded them.

  Only Gray mattered.

  * * *

  He woke up in his bed. Not his bed at their apartment, but the bed at the cabin. Soft, dryer-fresh sheets tickled his chin and he smiled, remembering how his mom had always tucked him in when he was sick. The smile faded as the pain in his ribs kicked in, followed swiftly by the sting in his nose. Sting was a kind word for the brushfire incinerating his sinuses.

  Sweet bloody hell.

  “You’re awake.”

  That voice did not belong to his mother. Or Jazz.

  He opened one eye and groaned as the back of an iPad came into view. No. Jazz loved him. She wouldn’t send the first horsewoman of the Apocalypse to his bedside unannounced.

  “Doesn’t look too bad.” Cool fingers pressed on his jaw, tilting his face this way and that. “Not broken. Can one sprain one’s nose?”

  “Maybe one can, but I doubt he did,” Nick said from behind her. “He barely took a hit. On the other hand, I took a knee to the goddamn balls—”

  “God forbid your best days would be behind you in that arena. Fear not, I’m sure you’ll live to mindlessly bang again.” Lila sat on the edge of Gray’s bed and shook back her wheat-colored hair. “Grayson, I didn’t expect you to be my problem child.”

  It shouldn’t have made him smile, especially since he was riding the knife’s edge of pain and he had no clue where Jazz was. “You were saving that role for Nick, huh?”

  “Saving it? The boy was born for that role.”

  “I’m not anyone’s child, problem or otherwise.” Nick strode out of the room and slammed the door, causing Lila’s lips to twitch.

  The instant he was gone, however, her polite mask fell away. “How deep are you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t fucking play games with me, Duffy. Jazz called and told me what Snake was insinuating. Poor girl’s still naïve enough to believe he’s just trying to start trouble for Oblivion, but we know better, don’t we?”

  At Gray’s silence, she stood and loomed over the bed like a vicious angel of mercy. “I don’t like nasty surprises, and you’ve already given me too many of them. She’ll be back in a few minutes from the store. Either you tell me now or you tell me in front of your little sweetheart, but rest assured, your secrets will be mine.”

  He coughed and directed his attention at the window. Dawn was breaking in the distance, casting a milky grayish pall over the room. He must’ve slept the night away.

  And this question wasn’t going to get any easier if he put it off.

  Swallowing hard, he darted a glance at the closed door. “It’s not a big deal,” he began.

  “My husband has been addicted to OxyContin for seven years. He’s what you call a functional drug user. That’s what he calls it. I don’t believe such a thing exists.”

  “You have a husband?” He’d never really thought much about her personal life, but she wasn’t much older than they were. Not that they weren’t old enough to be married. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “When did you get married?”

  “Seven years ago.” She tapped her flawless French manicured nails on her iPad. “Now if we can—”

  “Wait, you married your husband even though he was a druggie?”

  “It happens. Jazz would marry you, and you qualify.”

  He flushed and hated himself for it. “She doesn’t see me that way.”

  “No, her rose-coloreds are pretty much welded to her face. There’s also a part of her that gets off on saving the bad boy. She’s not nearly as innocent as you think. Or else she wouldn’t have snuck over here to seduce you the same day I told her to steer clear.”

  “Water?” Gray croaked.

  Sighing, she plucked a cup off the nightstand. He drained the mug and handed it bac
k then threw his arm over his face, earning a stitch in his bruised ribs for his trouble. That fucker Snake had hands like ham hocks.

  “I owe some people some money,” he said finally, once it became obvious that Lila would wait until the end of time for him to come clean.

  He’d emptied his savings and given the cash to Cricket as a down payment on the half he’d promised to get them in short order. She’d seemed pleased, and he hadn’t gotten any threatening phone calls since.

  He’d also kept Jazz at his side every moment that he could.

  “How much money?”

  He named a ballpark estimate of his remaining debt and Lila hissed out a breath. “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want to get hurt?”

  “I’ve got it under control.”

  “You’re not seriously going to sit—I’m sorry, lay—there and tell me you’re handling this. If Snake knows the kind of company you keep, so do other people. That’s not even mentioning your dealer. How long before she contacts a tabloid and sells the story to make up for all the cash you’re not giving her? And that’s if they don’t extract their payment from your flesh first.” She shoved his leg. “Or worse, your hands. They might not heal correctly. And what about Jazz? Are you ready for her to have to watch her back every time she walks out the door? Like right now. She’s parked at some corner drugstore, blithely picking up some Tylenol, and someone could be waiting outside, about to pounce—”

  “Stop it.” Gray shot upright in bed and fisted his hands in his hair. “Don’t fucking do this to me.”

  He’d already been having nightmares about that very possibility. The only thing that made them go away was turning to Jazz in the night and draining all of his fear into making love to her, over and over. Reassuring himself that his beautiful girl was whole and strong and his, and no one would ever hurt her again.

  Least of all him.

  “I didn’t do it. You did it.” Lila dropped down on the bed and flicked her finger across her iPad screen before turning the tablet toward him. Jazz beamed out of the photo, her eyes brighter than the sky on a summer day. Smile blinding. “Look at her and tell me you could live with yourself if she paid the price for your sins.”

  He grabbed the iPad and scrolled to the next picture. It was another of Jazz, this one at their concert at Red Rocks. She sat behind her kit, her head thrown back. The pink and blue spotlights picked up the gold dust on her skin. The irony wasn’t lost on him. She’d always sparkled. A jewel in a morass of rocks.

  His island of safety in the center of a world covered in landmines.

  “I won’t let this touch her,” he whispered, knowing he already had. He’d not only let it touch her, he’d invited it into their bed.

  “It already is. If it affects you, it affects her.” She took back her iPad and tapped the screen. “I’m transferring the sum you mentioned into your account. I want you to pay every penny to the spinecrackers you owe. Understand me?”

  His hand went lax on the sheets. “But—”

  “I don’t want a Hallmark moment about this. You’re a commodity I want to protect, as is Jasmine. But make no mistake. If I find out you didn’t pay every red cent of this advance on your future income to those you’re indebted to, or if you don’t keep your fucking nose clean, you will not only be cut off, you’ll be out of the band. End of story. I have no use for drug addicts.” She rose. “If Jasmine is smart, neither will she.”

  The door squeaked open and Jazz poked her head in. “I heard my name.”

  Gray’s shoulders relaxed, the tension that had gripped him easing away at the sight of his girl’s tremulous smile. “Of course you did. You’re my favorite subject. Get in here.”

  She slipped inside the room and waved a small white bag. “I brought you a couple of kinds of pain pills. Hopefully something will work.” She set the bag down on the nightstand and bit her lip, her gaze pingponging from Lila to Gray and back again. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” She moved forward to fuss with the sheets. “Your color’s better at least and—”

  “Baby, stop.” He gripped her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth. “You’ve done enough. You need some sleep.”

  “How do you know I haven’t slept?”

  “Because he knows you.” Lila patted her shoulder and walked to the door. “Thanks for calling me. I know it must not have been easy.”

  Jazz sank on the edge of the bed. “No, it really wasn’t.” She sent Gray a look under her lashes. “But Snake obviously intends to cause problems. Better we deal with them now.”

  “True enough. A wise woman faces an enemy head-on.” Lila pivoted to face them once more. “Your work sabbatical is ending a couple of days early. From your shows and the material you’re producing, it appears that you’ve made considerable progress, which is what this was all about. Bring your songs and yourselves to Ripper Records at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow as in later today? Or tomorrow tomorrow?”

  Lila offered Jazz a rare smile. “Tomorrow tomorrow. Enjoy your last day and night in paradise.” She gave Gray a glance heavy with things unsaid. “Make sure you come back prepared to work your asses off. One date remains on your club tour and we have a video to shoot, then you’re heading into the studio. We want to keep this momentum going.”

  “Got it. Thanks, Lila.”

  “You’re welcome. Feel better,” she said to Gray, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Jazz screwed up her mouth and gazed down at her hands. “So on a scale of one to ten, how pissed are you at me right now?”

  He laughed and gripped his ribs at the twinge of pain. “Ow. Fucker. Next time I’m going to use his bald head to polish the floor.”

  “Sure you are, honey.”

  He laughed again. “I’m not pissed at you at all. Well, maybe a two. She didn’t threaten to dismantle me from the balls up, so whatever you said must’ve smoothed over the waters pretty good.” And you inadvertently got me the money I needed.

  Definitely couldn’t be pissed about that.

  “When I told her Snake had tried to kick her guitarist’s ass, she seemed to lose some of her interest in what Snake was spouting off about. Though she did ask me a kind of weird question.” Jazz frowned. “When I told her I had something to tell her, the first thing she said was, ‘it’s not you and Nick again, is it?’”

  “Hmm. If I didn’t think she had more taste than that, I’d wonder if our uptight label rep had a thing for Mr. Personality Plus. But she told me she’s married so that can’t be it.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, because people never cheat.”

  He slid over on the mattress and held out his arm. “C’mere. It’s been too long since I’ve held you.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Holding you could never do that. Besides, hello, big tough guy here.”

  Her giggle as she settled in beside him eased the fist gripping his gut. “Oh, I know that. I almost didn’t run out to get you pain pills. You’re too hardcore to ever need them.” She reached up to feather her fingers over his nose, as lightly as a breeze. “You bled so much. I wanted to call 911 but Nick stopped me. So I called Lila instead.”

  “She is the fixer of all of Oblivion’s problems.” He cleared his throat. “I, ah, about what Snake said—”

  “I know he just wanted to cause trouble.”

  “Jazz—”

  “I bet that blonde he described is the one I saw you at the club with, right? So that’s not even a thing, because I know about her. You said you didn’t sleep with her and I believe you.”

  “Jazz, listen to me.”

  “It’s not like the rest even merits a mention. We’re best friends. You wouldn’t hide that from me, no matter what.” At his silence, she lifted her trembling chin. “Right?”

  He tightened his hold on her and fought to focus on her face rather than the cramping in his belly. “I need you to listen to me, okay, baby? Just let me say it all before I lose my nerve.”r />
  “Oh God.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gripped her stomach, rocking back and forth. “No. Don’t. If you don’t say it, it’s not real.”

  Swallowing hard, he rubbed her back. “I’m going to stop. I swear to you, this is the end of it.” Her choked sob made him close his eyes. “God, don’t cry. Please.”

  “I’m not crying. It’s fucking allergies.”

  He scooted forward on the bed—pain be damned—and slid his arm around her waist before pressing his cheek to her back. “I don’t want it between us. I don’t want anything there. If I didn’t quit for any other reason, I would for that one. How I feel about you is stronger than any drug.”

  The sound of her quiet weeping ripped a blade through his chest. “Why? You always warned me away from everything. You wouldn’t touch the stuff, ever.”

  He exhaled, tightening his grip on her. She was so soft. So easy to break. “Something happened. I let it push me to a dark place, and I slipped. I messed up. And then I kept doing it.”

  “What happened?”

  The image formed in his mind, as stark as the colored spotlights that had nearly blinded him that night. Nick coming out of a storage closet near the stage, still doing up his zipper. Jazz—his Jazz—following a moment later, still touching up her lipstick. Her hair tousled and wild, with that sleepy sex smile still curving her mouth.

  But he couldn’t tell her. Couldn’t lay the blame at her doorstep when he’d made the choice that day and every day since.

  “I thought one of my dreams had died,” he said, fisting his hand against her side. “I never expected to get another chance. Now that I am, you can be sure I won’t give it up for anything.”

  She turned toward him on the bed, drawing her leg up. One glimpse of her blotchy, tear-stained face and his heart convulsed. “Was it because of that stupid threesome?” She dashed at her tears. “It was the biggest mistake ever. I don’t know what I was thinking—”

  “No. That wasn’t it. It was before then.”