by J. Bengtsson
“Now you blaze your own path.”
“Maybe you haven’t been listening to my ball-crushing story of woe,” he countered.
“No, I have. But you seem like a scrappy guy. Why not have the best of both worlds? Walking off the stage in the middle of a performance is next-level drama. If it gets any traction on social media at all, it could blow up. Maybe by losing, you might actually win.”
“Okay, sure. Let’s go with your working theory,” he said, leaning forward to bust out a drum solo with his fingers on my dashboard. “Do you happen to know a couple million people so we can make this happen?”
We? I liked the way that sounded. How long had it been since a man had included me in their planning process? “Um… I might be shy a couple million on my social media accounts. But stop shitting on my plan, dude. Think about what I’m saying. You might not come out of this the loser you think you will.”
Stopping the impromptu concert, Quinn finally seemed to give my theory the serious consideration it deserved. “I hope you’re right.”
So was I. Of all the random people I’d picked up over the past couple of years, Quinn stood out as being the worthiest of a second chance.
He resumed the beat. “You’re the kind of person I need on my team.”
“I’m already on your team. I let you in my car, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, about that,” he said, glancing up at me through the fringe of his hair. “What the hell took you so long to open the door?”
“I don’t open my door for just anyone, Quinn.”
“You’re a RYde driver! That’s literally your job!”
“Right. But you weren’t following the rules.”
“Because I was being chased!” His voice rose an octave.
“By a guy in a silk suit and shiny loafers. I hardly think your situation was critical.”
Quinn abandoned my dashboard altogether, shifting in his seat to give me his full attention. “So, you’re saying if I were being pursued by someone like Liam Neeson or a nine-foot troll, you’d have opened the door and sped away when requested?”
“I would have sped away, yes. But you wouldn’t have been in the car with me.”
“Oh, okay.” He lit up. “I see you. All for one. Good to know. Remind me not to bring you along in a tornado.”
“As if that would ever happen. Don’t forget, according to your tragedy meter, I’m not allowed to go to tornado alley with you because my dog died when I was in fifth grade.”
I took in his self-assured grin, and as he leaned in, his heat ignited me. The close contact caused the hairs on my arms to stand at attention. I could smell the scent on his skin. My heart began to pound. This man was fire.
And then came his voice, soft and deliberate.
“I might be willing to relax my rules for a trip into the heartland with you.”
Oh. My. Dear. God. Dead! I was dead. His was possibly the sexiest come-on in the history of come-ons, and it hit me squarely where it counted. Quinn was everything I could want… and more. What would it be like to be chosen by someone like him? I’d been told my whole life I was up there on the attractiveness curve, but I was nowhere close to tipping the scales like the man sitting beside me. Quinn was like one of those teenage crushes that made you feel all giggly inside—that unattainable dream guy who was just personable enough to make you think you had an actual shot with him. Like Nick.
No, Jess. Shut up. Not like Nick at all.
Fighting off his allure with everything I had, I replied with as much sarcasm as I could muster, “I’ll be waiting on your decision with bated breath.”
Quinn’s eyes lit up, seemingly pleased with my response. I then watched as he dropped back into his seat and adjusted it to make room for his long legs. Through the skintight vinyl, I could see the movement of the muscles and could almost picture what was beneath. I was mesmerized by his freshness and strength. Oh, yeah. I had to stop. I could not be fantasizing about this guy while he was still sitting in my car. There’d be plenty of time for imagining when I got home.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable there,” I said, pressing my thighs together to hide the evidence.
“Why?”
“Because you’re about to tell me where I’m driving you to.”
He rolled his head to the side, gracing me with another wide grin. “Do I look like I have anywhere to go?”
Come to think of it, no, he didn’t. Was Quinn planning on riding around with me all day? “Well, thirty dollars isn’t going to get you far, big spender. So I suggest you start thinking.”
Quinn groaned. “I don’t want to think. I just want to chill.”
“Maybe you can chill at home.”
“Nah, I don’t want to be alone in my time of need.”
“Family, then?” I tried. “Friends?”
“Uh… definitely don’t want to see my family right now, and as far as friends go, I don’t have many to speak of.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Eh, I don’t know,” he replied, distracted. “I probably should’ve tried harder to make ’em when I was still young and cute.”
What guy who looked like Quinn didn’t have friends to spare? They should be lined up around the corner, taking numbers. He didn’t add up. There was something about him that didn’t jibe with his perfect exterior, like there was some big reveal that might help explain why a professional singer would walk off the stage in the middle of a performance. But he didn’t offer up any clues, so I forged on, trying to figure out where to take this wayward rocker.
“Come on, Quinn, focus. Where am I taking you?”
He sighed, long and loud. “Fine, just take me somewhere fun.”
“Fun?” I asked. “Like an amusement park?”
“Not that much fun.”
“A museum?”
He rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“Quinn.” I bit down a smile. “I’m about to push you out of my moving vehicle.”
“Damn, Getaway Girl. Chill out. Maybe you need some fun too.”
“Sure, just as soon as I drop you off.”
“Or you can chill now…with me.”
“Oh, right.” I laughed, glancing his way only to find him…not laughing.
“I’m being serious. Come with me.”
YES! I cut him off in my mind. Yes, of course I’ll come with you. We’ll laugh and talk and go wild, and then after a fancy dinner at Red Robin, I’ll let you absolutely rock my shit in the car. It’ll be the perfect afternoon of entertainment and the hottest sex EVER. My breath quickened at just the thought of all the carnal fun I could have with this young stallion in a few hours’ time. But then reality kicked in. What was I thinking? I couldn’t do that. Not now. Not ever. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I couldn’t be that girl anymore. Stability was what was required in my life now.
And although I wanted to beat the reasonable girl in my head to a bloody pulp, I deferred to her judgment. “It’s a generous offer, but I’m gonna have to pass.”
He sat up, clearly stunned by my refusal. “Why?”
“Why?” I replied, racking my brain for an acceptable lie.
“Because I know the guy on Hollywood Boulevard dressed up like Chewbacca better than I know you.”
“Right, but I’ve got a better head of hair than that dude,” he said, sliding his fingers through his highlighted strands.
“Debatable,” I countered. “Besides, you don’t even know my name.”
“Does Chewbacca?”
“No. But he’s asked…numerous times.”
“I’m sure he has. And I was actually getting to that myself,” Quinn said, tilting toward me and as his head dipped closer, I swallowed hard. Quinn was a pile of smoldering embers, and he was threatening to spread.
Responsible Jess, where are you? I’m dying here.
“What’s your name, Getaway Girl?”
That self-assured smile. Oh god.
Strong, Jess. Hold strong.
“Agai
n, not spending the afternoon with you, so there’s really no need for my name.”
“Ah, got it. You have a boyfriend.”
I glanced his way. “Just because I said no to you doesn’t mean I have a boyfriend.”
“So you don’t.”
I met his eye, wanting to lie but knowing he already had me hopelessly cornered.
“No. I’m actually between boy toys at the moment. And you?”
A slow smile hitched up one corner of his mouth. That moment of vulnerability he’d displayed earlier was long gone, replaced with a magnetism that refused to be ignored. It was then that I could picture him up on a stage, girls crashing to the ground around him as they screamed his name. Holy shit. This was no down-and-out musician I had in my car. Quinn was a rising star, one that would someday see his name in lights and fill stadiums to capacity. And I, Jesse Olivia Bello, had a chance to grab a tiny piece of his shine, and I was… declining?
“No. I’m not currently attached,” he replied. “And thanks for asking.”
“You asked first,” I reminded him.
His amused eyes flickered over me. “You don’t like to lose, do you?”
“Does anyone?”
“Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m getting somewhat used to it.”
Oh, he was so self-deprecating, so charming. How was I expected to fight this attraction? It was just cruel—torturous. Quinn took my obvious inner turmoil as his cue to push for the outcome he desired. “Come on… stop stalling. You know you want to spend the day with me.”
Was there any debate? Of course I wanted him… uh, to spend the day with him. I mean, what girl didn’t love a guy who challenged her, drew her into debate… Wait, exactly what were we debating—his sexiness? If that were the case, he’d win that argument hands down. There was something so endearing in his approach. He didn’t need to play games to win me over. He simply conquered through directness and honesty. And by doing that, he made me want to hand him that victory. Jess of yore would’ve jumped at the chance. Hell, she’d already be in his lap by now. She was fearless and fun and sexy. She lived like there was no tomorrow… until tomorrow came calling and delivered her an ultimatum: repent or risk losing it all.
And that was when responsible Jess was born, the good girl who paid her rent and watered her plants and put others before herself. Old Jess grew to admire new Jess. The new, improved version of myself represented stability and a roof overhead. But sometimes… sometimes I missed that reckless girl. Wild Jess. God, she’d been so fun.
“That bullish charm is not going to work on me, Quinn,” I said, feigning disinterest. “So, why don’t you just go ahead and cross me off that list of women who fall all over you the minute you show them any interest.”
“Okay, sure,” Quinn agreed playfully. “I’ll do that. Let me get my pad and pencil.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out imaginary writing supplies. Mesmerized by his easy charm, I watched as he fake-scribbled on his make-believe paper, all the while swiping wayward strands of hair from his eyes. I was instantly reminded of an iconic movie and a young Leonardo with a sketch pad.
It had been a long while since I’d met a man so… alive.
“What’s your name?” he asked again, fake pencil poised at the ready.
I narrowed my gaze.
“What?” His smile widened. “How can I cross it off my list if I don’t know what it is?”
My name dangled on the edge of my tongue, begging to be spoken. What would be the harm? I actually had the week off from responsibility, so technically nothing was holding me back. One mindless afternoon of fun. Surely I could spare that for a future rock legend. Besides, no one had to know. I could bring old Jess back for just one day. And as my mouth watered in anticipation, the words unexpectedly slipped off my tongue.
“My name is Jess.”
“Nice.” He nodded, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he wrote my name down on his pretend pad of paper. “Is that short for Jessica?”
I smiled. This was all so easy for him. This straightforward seduction. “Jesse, actually. I dropped the ‘e.’”
“Jess-e,” Quinn said, savoring the last vowel. He repeated my name a few times, trying it on for size.
“Jess, actually. Just Jess.”
He smiled that disarming smile of his, the one that said he would call me what he’d like and I’d love it. “Last name, please. For alphabetical purposes only.”
“Just write ‘Jess, the getaway girl.’ That should be enough to remember me by.”
He raised a brow. “Ah, being mysterious, eh? I like it.”
Oh, man. Where did I sign? This guy was female catnip. The minute he’d set his sights on me, I was done for. In fact, I’d never had a chance. If Quinn’s looks weren’t enough to complete the savory dish, he was served with a big ol’ helping of charisma and a slippery side of sex. I knew what I was getting myself into. Quinn was all over the place, and he’d drag me along for the ride. It would be fun. It would be wild. And I would feel free. All the things I’d promised to never be again.
Sorry, responsible Jess. I really tried.
When a smile sprang to my face, Quinn knew he’d won.
5
Quinn: The End Pieces
It was almost too easy.
Jess had fallen right in line, just as I knew she would. Who needed a famous last name or decent threads—or a job—when even aimless losers could score the girl?
The girl.
I glanced over at Jess. My smile faded. Oh, shit. I’d just picked up my RYde driver. Was that bad? It suddenly felt…wrong. Was I leading this girl on, when I had no intention of extending our playdate past midnight? No offense against Jess. She was a cool girl, but I’d recently come out of a short-lived relationship with human Saran Wrap and wasn’t eager to get myself wound up in that sticky shit again. Not that there was any evidence that Jess was already planning on changing her personal pronoun from I to we, but then again, I’d just met her—in a car—so how could I know if she had a tendency to smother?
“You all right there, Hollywood?” Jess asked, seemingly reading my distress. “You’re lookin’ a bit nauseous.”
“Not at all,” I lied. “That’s actually my thinking face.”
“Oh, damn. I hope you don’t do that very often.”
“What, think?” I chuckled. “No, not very often.”
“What a relief,” she said, her teasing tone a welcome reprieve. I didn’t want heavy right now. I didn’t want to think. All I wanted was a few hours of peace, away from those who judged, and Jess offered that to me. She had no skin in the game, no reason to steer me wrong. And even though we were effectively strangers, she understood there was no turning back. The show was over. The audience had gone home. The damage—and it was colossal—had already been done.
I could almost hear the commentator in my head.
Congratulations, Quinn. Now that you’ve successfully blown up your life, what will you do next?
Well, Chuck, I’m going to Disneyland!
Oh god. My brothers were going to absolutely destroy me. Not that they needed a reason to lay me out, but this… Oh, yeah… They wouldn’t be able to contain themselves. And how could I blame them? Had the roles been reversed, I would’ve absolutely annihilated them too. No, it wasn’t my brothers I was worried about, but my parents. They’d look at me with the same disappointed acceptance in their eyes that they’d had when I’d quit my last band… and the one before that. And when I’d turned down Jake’s offer to produce a solo album last year. I didn’t want handouts, I’d explained at the time, but it was clear they thought I needed them. Look, I got it. Fiscal fatigue was setting in. My parents were probably tired of shelling out the supplemental income they paid monthly to me so I could go off in pursuit of my dreams… dreams that might never come to fruition.
Shit. They were going to cut me off, weren’t they? Who could blame them? They’d given me ample time to get my act together, e
ven suggesting other avenues of employment—for example, trade school. Not the worst idea. Maybe I could become a plumber. Really, I was already halfway through the education. I had a strong stomach, knew my way around a plunger, and could eventually learn to love Hanes classic brief underwear.
Of course, there was always college. I could be that hot older guy in the back, pulling in all the eighteen-year-old chicks. But what would I study? Besides music, I really wasn’t good at anything other than psychoanalyzing myself, and I sure as hell didn’t want to major in that. Music was my beating heart. Take that away and I wasn’t so sure how long the rest of me could survive.
A quick glance at the notifications on my phone confirmed the inevitable—missed calls or texts from at least half of my family members. How did they even know? Had Hollis called and tattled on me? I contemplated answering them but thought better of it. The consequences would be the same whether I checked in with them now or whether we touched base tomorrow morning. They’d be ‘disappointed’ either way. They always were.
Silencing my phone, I shoved it into the depths of my backpack, and when I looked back up, I noticed Jess staring. She was a perceptive one. I offered up my ‘you caught me’ smile and left it at that. To my surprise, Jess didn’t comment on my shifty behavior, and I was struck by her unobtrusive solidarity. Lately it seemed most females I encountered either giggled extensively upon first introduction or talked at a high rate of speed. Jess seemed content to just absorb.
Settling in for the drive, I sat mindlessly, taking in the concrete scenery until it occurred to me I had absolutely no idea where we were going. In the beginning of our journey, Jess had made a few freeway changes, but that was about the same time I got myself all wound up in alternate employment options and lost track of direction. And now, it seemed, Jess was taking us south on the freeway. I really didn’t care where she took me as long as it wasn’t into the nearby mountains for an invigorating nature hike. If there was one activity I’d never been a fan of, it was scaling up steep terrain for no apparent fucking reason.
“Um… I have a question,” I said, raising my hand.
