Play For Me
Page 10
More than anything, I wished I could resist him, but it seemed Jack Whitehorse had, without even caring, made a home for himself in my heart. Watching him and his band tear it up on national television ached my heart. It took a long pull from my mug of apple cider to tamp down the lump in my throat. The scene before me drove home the truth—there was no room in Jack’s dreams for a bookish girl from the suburbs.
The after-party for a national TV appearance would be phenomenal. No doubt, the number of celebrities in attendance would probably keep the band busy through the weekend. Thinking about Jack and some actress made my stomach hurt. Still, I couldn’t wrest my eyes away from the show.
Afterward, I caught Stacy looking at me funny, and I worried I’d given myself away. I smiled my most winning smile at her and said, “Wow! That was excellent. They were that good at Red Rocks too, for sure.”
“You had backstage passes? Did you meet the band?” Chase’s eagerness to know my experience rescued me—at least for the moment—from his sister’s scrutiny.
“Yeah, I met them. Well, all but Blu. But I met the others. Dakota is kind of a wild man.”
“Considering how he shreds the lead guitar, that makes sense,” Chase said.
Mrs. Newhouse saved me from having to discuss Balefire any further when she announced dessert. Never in my life could I remember wanting a slice of pumpkin pie more than I did in that moment.
The rest of our minibreak passed quickly. Stacy’s pack of dogs and I made friends as I helped her walk them in the mornings. Chase declared I was the coolest of the friends Stacy had brought home so far since I made kick-ass sugar cookies and had met most of the members of Balefire. Mr. and Mrs. Newhouse invited me back for another visit. When Stacy turned her big truck south for our return to Colorado, I wished more than anything that I’d grown up in a middle-class family in a small town in Wyoming instead of alone in a cold mansion in Denver.
Chapter Ten
Jack
“Seriously, Garrett? You booked us over Christmas? Again? I haven’t had Christmas with my family since I joined the band,” I said when our manager announced our current tour extension through the holidays and well into the New Year.
“What can I say? You guys are the hottest show playing right now. I wouldn’t be doing my job as your manager if I didn’t help you take advantage of that.” Garrett grinned. “Besides, playing New York City over the holidays is fucking huge. Those dates will launch your Asian tour like a rocket.”
“New York at Christmas?” Dakota asked as he sprawled across a leather recliner in Garrett’s suite at our Chicago hotel. “Cool. I’ve always wanted to see New York at Christmas. See if all that ‘Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus’ bullshit might actually be real.” He smirked at me and tipped back the beer he’d cracked open when Garrett called us together for a meeting in his suite.
“By the time I see my family again, my youngest brother is going to have white Santa hair and a beard to match. Jay’s fifteen, by the way,” I grumbled as I flopped down beside Blu on a nearby couch.
“Not spending Christmas with your family the last two years didn’t seem to bother you much. Can’t help wondering what’s changed. Couldn’t have something to do with a certain hot redhead you reluctantly introduced me to after we played that concert at Red Rocks, could it?” Dakota prodded.
“Fuck you, Dakota. And leave Clio out of it.”
“Clio, that’s the one.” He nodded. “Blu said he saw you dragging her out of the party like you couldn’t wait to get into her panties. Then no one saw either of you for the rest of the night. Since that night, you haven’t been any fun at all.” He took a swig of his beer. “She blue-ball you or something?”
My hands tightened into fists, and I was halfway off the couch when Blu grabbed me and pulled me back down. He shook his head at me and kept a restraining hand on my arm.
“Leave it alone, Dakota. It would fuck up our tour if one of you two broke a hand on the other one,” Tron warned from where he leaned against the minibar. Though his stance said casual, his tone brooked no argument. At least not from a sane individual. The jury remained out on Dakota’s state of mind.
“I’m only sayin’ Jackie-boy didn’t have attitude before we played Denver, and he’s had nothin’ but attitude since.”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with your wake-up calls, even after he’s asked you for months to lay off, would it?” Again, a sane man might have paid attention to Blu’s sarcasm.
Not Dakota. “Aw, come on guys. I’m just having a little fun with him. Being the youngest and newest one of us, Jack needs some hazing, yeah?” Dakota whined.
“He’s been part of the band for almost three years,” Tron reminded him. “Look, we all know how tight you and Dave were, but Dave walked away. None of us asked him to leave. He needed to sober up, and this life wouldn’t let him do that. You have to stop taking it out on Jack.”
Seeming to ignore Tron, Dakota said, “It’d help if you weren’t such a monk. Jesus, women throw themselves at you, and you play ’em like dodge ball.”
“I don’t know why that bugs you so much, Dakota. It just leaves more pussy for you,” I said.
“Whatever.” He snorted and finished off his beer.
Tron handed me a beer. “His rhythms make you sound damn good, Dakota. Stop bein’ such a dick and let him up.”
Garrett clapped his hands together and said, “Now that we’ve finished the catfight portion of this meeting, maybe we can talk logistics and plan for the New York dates. Did I mention I’ve booked you guys on both Fallon and Colbert while we’re in the city?”
Following Garrett’s understated announcement, the four of us started talking at once.
“No shit!”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”
“No fuckin’ way!”
“Man, I love Fallon. You’re a fuckin’ genius, Garrett,” Dakota said with a huge grin while Blu and I high-fived each other on the couch. Tron cracked open a beer and toasted Garrett with it.
Garrett’s announcement shifted the whole mood of the meeting.
“Maybe you can work on the new song Jack wrote. That one has potential. You might even debut it on one of those shows,” Garrett said.
Though we’d decided to spend a rare day off during the tour by taking in the sights, Garrett’s announcement sent us into a studio to rehearse. The howling winds Lake Michigan sent to attack Chicago might have contributed to our change of plans too. Mostly, we were all excited about the opportunity to meet some popular late-night talk show hosts and score more television time. Playing in front of a national audience on Thanksgiving had been a rush for us, letting the world know we’d arrived. The whole band was eager for more of that.
As we left the hotel, I wondered for the hundredth time if Clio had seen the show on Thanksgiving. I’d finally convinced Annabelle to give me Clio’s number right before we played that pro football game halftime show, so I’d called her to ask if she’d tune in to watch. But Annabelle must have been messing with me because the number she gave me was no longer in service. Maybe Clio would catch one of the talk shows. Maybe she’d try to get in touch with me. Maybe my dreams were too big.