“Last time I checked I was on hiatus, so I turned off my phone. Oh, and just because you’re our PR agent doesn’t give you permission to come and go as you please. What the hell are you doing here anyway? Tell me what was so damn important that it couldn’t wait for two more weeks?”
She bristles like I slapped her, and damn if it doesn’t piss me the fuck off, but if I don’t set any boundaries from the get-go she’ll try walking all over me. Not a happening thing. Ever.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re the last person I wanted to see. You’re not the only one who was looking forward to some downtime. FYI, everyone’s on vacation but me. I’m still working to make sure everything is in place and running like clockwork for the next few months.” She tosses some papers on the table just when there’s another knock on the door. “When you have a minute, I just need your signature and then I won’t bother you again.”
Ignoring her, I jerk open the door and startle the girl standing there. Great—when her jaw hits the floor at the sight of me, I’m positive she knows who I am. With her hands shaking, she hands me my bag and gets ready to bolt. “Hey pretty girl, don’t run off before I pay you.” Yeah, I hear a snicker from behind me and maybe it was a dick move, but I kinda did that for Quinn’s benefit.
“You’re Jet from The Sinful Seven and I can’t even right now.”
I saunter over, my hair still wet from the shower, bend down, and whisper in her ear, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your friends where I live. Ya know, if it got out my apartment might be bombarded with people and that wouldn’t be a good thing.”
“I swear I won’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she shudders. I’m going to hell, but then again, after my sordid past it was a given anyway.
“I’ll tell ya what. For being such a great fan, I’ll hook you up with concert tickets the next time we’re in town.” Using my thumb, I point over my shoulder at Quinn. “She’ll make sure you get four tickets for you and your friends next time around.” She practically comes in her yoga pants when I slip her a fifty and tell her to keep the change. Hey, what can I say? I got moves. I just choose not to use them too often.
“I might be your agent, Jet, but I’m not your gopher. You can bring her your own damn tickets. Now please sign these papers so I can get the hell out of here.” Touchy.
“I won’t sign a damn thing until I read it, and right now I’m eating while my dinner is still hot. So leave them and I’ll look it over when it’s convenient for me.” She huffs as I grab a plate and sit at the island, pushing the papers away so I don’t get grease all over them. No way is she going to trick me into doing a damn interview if that’s what she’s thinking.
“Believe me, if I could have had someone else sign them I would, but Lucas and Abby are in Aruba, Willow is out of town, and Trevor is too. Apparently, everyone’s gone except the two of us so I had no other choice. One signature is all I need to represent the band, and that would be you.”
What part doesn’t she understand? I’m eating first, and if it’s band related you can bet your ass I’ll be reading it first. I might need to run it by Mr. Miller, too.
A loud rumble interrupts our conversation and I’d laugh, but this time it wasn’t me. Looking over my shoulder as I shovel food in my mouth, I capture Quinn’s stare. Dammit. Why does this girl torment me so? I push over the other burger and pat the seat next to me. I’m a prick, but after the childhood I’ve had I would feed an army if I could.
“Take a seat, Quinn. I can’t guarantee that I’ll sign the papers today, but we’ve shared plenty of meals together. What’s one more?” I continue devouring my food, not paying her any mind, when the chair scrapes against the floor next to me. I watch out of the corner of my eye as she sits down, unwraps the burger, and sinks her pearly whites into the greasy goodness. When a sexy moan escapes, my cock wants to salute the sound.
What the fuck!
“Thanks, I really needed this. All I had was a yogurt and coffee this morning… or was that yesterday? I don’t remember, but I owe you big time.”
I don’t trust myself to speak right now since she has a tiny bit of ketchup on her bottom lip and damn if I don’t want to lick it clean.
Quinn is gorgeous, smart, and selfless. Everything I need to stay far away from.
QUINN
Those baby blues hold so much sadness, and for the life of me I wish I knew why that was. I’d only be fooling myself to think he’d ever open up to me when his bandmates don’t even know the real reason. I’m sure Lucas does, but he’s fierce and loyal and I don’t blame him for not divulging anything. Truth be told, he’s the reason I’m here. Trying to make nice so the rest of the tour won’t be so confrontational. Lucas thinks if Jet and I can spend some time together, we might be able to come to some kind of truce. Now I’m not so sure.
“Are you going to finish that burger or just stare at me?” he asks. Crap, I didn’t realize his gaze was locked on mine.
“Hell yeah, I’m going to finish. Why? Are you sorry you asked me to sit and break bread with you again?” It’s a figure of speech, but he tenses up and I don’t know why. No matter what I say or do, he seems to be offended. Coming here was a mistake and I should have just gone with my gut and stayed far away. I’m hoping he doesn’t call Willow or Trevor because they’re both kicking back at home chilling out. They didn’t go anywhere. And I wonder what Jet would do if he knew Lucas was behind this little charade?
Raising my brows, I take a big bite and chew. Challenging him to even try to take it away from me because I will bite. When he chuckles, my skin prickles with goosebumps. He does that so infrequently that it’s music to my ears. We finish eating in silence, but not before he slides some fries in my direction and I chow down on them before he changes his mind.
After we’ve devoured every bite, I get up to clean off the table when he grabs my arm. “I’ll take care of that later. Tell me what these papers are all about and why it couldn’t wait until everyone was together again.”
“It’s the itinerary for the rest of the tour, and I need someone to sign off on it.” I don’t think he’s buying it, but he grabs them anyway and starts reading. “If you need me to explain something…”
“I might not have a fancy college education, Quinn, but I can read.”
“Why do you take everything I say and do out of context? Contrary to what you might think, I’m trying to do what’s right for you and the band. After all, isn’t that what I get paid to do? God forbid I try to be your friend, too. You know what, sign the damn papers whenever you’re ready and I’ll pick them up or mail the damn things for all I care. Thanks for the eats. I’m out of here.”
With one twist of the knob, I’m ready to bolt when his heat surrounds me from all angles. And his scent just about brings me to my knees. I need to snap out of this lustful stupor I’m in because he’s made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with me. His hand appears out of nowhere, slamming the door closed with a finality that has my heart pounding inside of my chest.
Leaning down, he whispers against the shell of my ear, “You’re on my turf, Quinn. Which means I don’t take orders from you, just the opposite. You’ll do what I tell you to do. Now, sit down! I’ll read over the papers. If they meet my criteria and I don’t need to call our lawyer, I’ll sign them so you can get out of my house and hair for the next twelve days. Got it? Good.”
It takes everything I have not to turn around and slap his pompous face, but I’m supposed to be here to make peace, not start a war. So, I do what he asks and go sit on the sofa. As far away from him as humanly possible in this small space. While he’s reading over the documents, I scan the room and suddenly realize how impersonal it feels. The walls are a stark white, giving a clinical vibe that isn’t the least bit homey and inviting. In my mind, I’m figuring out how to decorate this space when his agitated voice pulls me out of my daydream.
“Are you fu
cking serious right now? No, I’m not signing this, and if any other member of the band give permission to this, I’ll walk away. This is blackmail and I won’t be privy to it. I’ve already told you I won’t do an interview and that will never change.” Oh, if looks could kill I’d be dead.
“That’s part of your contract, and there’s going to be plenty of things that are uncomfortable for all of us moving forward. But if you want a career in music, you better get used to it. Your life is an open book and the sooner you come clean, the easier it will be. If you continue dragging your feet like an insolent child, the public will think you have something to hide. That’s when it could get ugly, but if you let me do the interview, I’ll have your back.” My heart breaks when his hands slide down his face, scrubbing away the pain.
“Music is my life, but if I need to walk away because my past is buried and gone, I will. I swear, Quinn. I won’t do an interview with you or anyone else. If that means they go digging, let them. They won’t find a damn thing. I’m sure you know that since you’ve done your own investigating.” He’s right. Every damn word. A twenty-six-year-old Jet Turner doesn’t exist. So, who is the real Jet Turner?
“I can’t force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. If you change your mind, call me and I’ll pick them up. Otherwise you can answer to the other three members of your band when they realize you’re the one holding up the process. I hope I’ll see you when the tour kicks off again, Jet. It would be a shame to get this far and something like this stands in your way. Thanks for the lunch. Catch you later.”
I can’t stop the tears sliding down my face when I close the door behind me and his screams pierce my eardrums. Angry, hurtful cussing assaults my senses as objects crash against the door, the walls, and anything it comes in contact with. Shaking the frame behind me. God, Jet, what did they do to you?
My hands are shaking by the time my thumb hits the button on my phone. When he answers, he inhales. “Fuck, I guess it didn’t go so well, huh?”
“This was such a bad idea, Lucas. He’s so upset and I hate leaving him. This is all my damn fault and now he’s thinking of quitting the band all because of this damn interview. Call him, please. Promise you will.” I’m sniffling so bad that I don’t think he can understand a word I’m saying.
“Jet’s losing his shit because he hates being cornered. I’m sure he feels like everyone’s ganging up on him since he’s the only one who’s not onboard about the interview. Go home, Quinn. I’ll call him to smooth everything over.”
JET
Pissed doesn’t even compare to how I was feeling after my late-night conversation with my BFF. Never did I ever think that Lucas would go behind my back the way he did. The only good that came out of it is I don’t need to do the interview, and he now realizes that it’s best to keep Quinn as far away from me as possible. If not, I already told him I’d quit the band and they could find another bassist to finish up the tour. I don’t give a fuck about breaking a contract when it comes to my privacy. I thought I made it crystal clear all those years ago when I told him straight-up. Well, now he knows after I reminded him about our blood oath, which in my opinion is more binding than a damn piece of paper and a ballpoint pen.
I couldn’t sleep a wink after our conversation last night. I’m hurt, exhausted, and in need of a good workout. Reason being I’m heading down to my favorite sweat shop.
Walking into the Hungry Dog Diner is the closest to coming home that a drifter like me can expect. Even with the shiny new faces that greet me as I enter, the aroma settles my nerves. When I get into the kitchen, a head pops up the second I swing open the door and the genuine smile I see tells me all I need to know.
I’m home.
“Look what the hell the cat dragged in.” Mack quickly wipes his hands on a dishtowel and rushes over to give me a hug. When he pulls me in and his beefy arms wrap around my tall frame, I choke back the fucking tears that threaten to break me. “I missed you, boy. How long have you been back?”
“Just a few days, but I can see I came just in time. Looks like you need a dishwasher today, huh?” He laughs, his big belly shaking against mine.
“Those damn kids have no work ethic, I swear. Calling in sick and it’s not even summertime yet. I’m sure a big rockstar like yourself has better things to do than help out an old man like me.”
Pulling away before I cry like a damn pussy, I stare at the kindest man I’ve ever known. “There’s no place else I’d rather be, Mack. Seriously. If you can promise to keep the teeny boppers out of my way, I’m rolling up my sleeves to give you a hand. There’s nothing like a hard day of manual labor to get my fix.”
“I can’t promise they won’t recognize a hot shot like you, but I’ll keep them as far away as possible. Hey, I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair hidden inside that beanie. Oh, and those track pants and long sleeve shirt will surely scare them away.” With a wink, he throws an apron at me that has his logo etched across the front. The words Hungry Dog Diner stand out in big bold letters.
I don’t have time to waste by reminiscing, so I roll up the end of my sleeves and dig right in. There’s a shit ton of dishes to catch up on, and it doesn’t take me long to find a rhythm just like back in the old days.
The diner is slamming when I swap out my first clean load of dishes for the dirty ones. Of course I get a few curious stares from the rest of the kitchen staff. They think I’m a new guy but I just continue doing what I’m doing and mind my own business.
Mack peeks his head in every now and again to make sure the kitchen’s running smoothly and to grab a few orders that are ready to be delivered. He’s always helping out which is the reason his business is always booming. He’s truly one of the good guys.
After several hours, I’m ready for a break, but I’d never take one without someone to replace me. That’s how I roll, and as pissed as I was with Lucas last night I’d never leave the band high and dry. If it came down to me quitting, I’d make sure they had a replacement before walking away. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was glad he let me skip my interview. He promised he’d create a fluff piece that would keep everyone happy. As long as I can read it before it goes public, it’s all good.
I can’t help smiling when I see people pointing fingers, and hear whispering behind my back like I’m oblivious to the whole thing. Yeah, it makes me uncomfortable as hell since I thrive on anonymity, but it’s kind of hard to do now that The Sinful Seven’s name is on everyone’s lips. I know this is what I’ve been wanting for so long and maybe one day I won’t need to look over my shoulder. For now, it makes me uncomfortable. Do they know I’m just a runaway? Or are they whispering because I’m the best bassist around?
If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s to stop being so damn paranoid. Not every face in the crowd is going to be his. Besides, what are the odds I’d randomly come face-to-face with my ruin in an old diner?
Mack enters and takes one look at my grimy apron. “Boy, you need a break.” He turns to Harold, one of Mack’s oldest and most loyal cooks, and says, “Harold, we need two burgers with the works and spicy fries to go. Jet and I have both worked up a hell of an appetite and since he’s volunteering his time, least I can do is feed him.” Harold’s been here forever so he knows exactly who I am. The rest of the kitchen staff has no clue.
“Coming right up, Boss.” He pauses his orders and gets going on ours. I feel a bit guilty but I’ll get over it.
“Let’s go out back so we can talk. Harold will bring it to us when he’s finished, right?” Harold nods in answer and Mack grabs us a few beers out of the fridge before getting ready to head out. It feels like old times and I sure do miss it.
“Hey, I’ll meet you out back,” I say to Mack. “I just want to switch out these dishes and set myself up for when my break’s over. Food should be ready by then. I’ll bring it out so Harold won’t miss a beat with the orders. It’s slamming in here today!”
“You always did put others
before your own needs, didn’t ya, boy?”
The name “boy” doesn’t make me flinch like it did when I was younger. I’ve learned that it’s his term of endearment since he has a hard time voicing how he feels. Well, join the club, Mack. Join the club.
Grabbing a load of piping hot dishes straight out of the dishwasher, I stride into the dining room with my head held low. Imagine my surprise when I come face-to-face with Quinn.
What the ever-loving fuck is she doing here?
QUINN
Thankfully, Lucas was able to wave the olive branch and Jet accepted it. Reluctantly, I might add, and I don’t blame him since he thinks we blindsided him. Which we kind of did and I feel horrible for going ahead with Lucas’s stupid plan. Being their PR agent, I should have realized it was unethical in so many ways. If Jet wanted to seek revenge, he could easily file a complaint with Morris Music and I could lose my job. I’m hoping it won’t come down to that so from now on I really need to abide by his rules and stay far away. No more playing the avenging angel swooping in to save him. Hell, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Being alone with him last night would have been perfect if those damn papers didn’t come between us. Stupid, I’m so stupid. I should have torn them up and told him the truth. That I was there just to get to know him better when no one else was around. I feel like everyone has opened up to me except him and I just want him to know if the time comes, I’m a good listener.
Dammit, I blew that big time.
What better way to wallow in self-pity than to stuff my face with food. I’m in the mood for another greasy burger he shared with me last night and, lucky for me, I have a photographic memory. So off I go to the Hungry Dog Diner to get me some.
Jet: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 2) Page 2