ALMOST HOME

by Williams, Mary J.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Danny warned. “Yes, to watch them on stage, Razor’s Edge seems ready to conquer the music world. However, they aren’t simply a group. They’re people. Individuals with different personalities and problems.”

  “There are always problems,” Joplin said as she remembered some of Danny’s horror stories.

  “Always. Even the most even-tempered artist comes with baggage. Troublesome family can be a nightmare.” Danny sighed. “Hope for the best…”

  “Prepare for the worst,” Joplin finished the tried and true adage for him.

  “Go. Prep your newest discovery. I’ll be there soon.”

  Ending the call, Joplin tucked her phone into her bag. Buoyed by her conversation with Danny, she headed back into the bar with an extra bounce in her step.

  With the entertainment portion of the evening over and the last call for alcohol a distant memory, the crowd had thinned. Some had undoubtedly hooked up; others were on their way home. A few stragglers with no better place to be, lingered in the shadows, much to the annoyance of the weary waitresses who wanted nothing more than to clean up their areas and get off their feet.

  Skye Monroe was nowhere to be seen, but Joplin wasn’t concerned. Though the video she sent Danny sealed the deal for Razor’s Edge, the offer she had for the band wasn’t contingent on the female singer’s participation. Jax, Kane, Beck, and Morgan were the meat. If the other members of the group were amiable and if she chose to join, Skye’s would be a nice, healthy accompaniment to an already rounded-out meal.

  Laughing over the odd metaphor, Joplin approached the stage. She wasn’t nervous—exactly. And, damn it, the tingling along her nerve endings had nothing to do with the knowledge she was about to exchange words with Kane Harrison for the first time. What she felt was a normal amount of anticipation overtaking a huge step toward her future.

  Joplin would not now, nor would she ever, let a man scramble her brains or derail her plans.

  Busy breaking down equipment and entertaining themselves by throwing out insults, no one in the band seemed to notice Joplin. She waited, realizing she’d arrived during a rather personal and graphic discussion of Jaxon Cross’ love life.

  “Hey, assholes,” Jax growled. “First, my ejaculation is not premature. Second, stop talking about my spunk.”

  Joplin didn’t know whether to slink away and come back later or continue, pretending she hadn’t overheard. When Kane’s knowing gaze locked with hers, both options flew out the window. She was caught with nowhere to go.

  However, if the arrogant lead guitar player, a dare in his dark eyes, expected her to blush and stammer over anything to do with sex—over anything, period—he was about to learn an important lesson about her. Joplin Ashford never backed away from a challenge.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” She cleared her throat. “Could I have a few minutes of your time?”

  Joplin watched as Jax closed his eyes and stifled a groan. Beck and Morgan seemed equally embarrassed. Not Kane. He didn’t seem to have a self-conscious bone in his body. He leaned toward her and laid on the charm—thick and smooth as cream.

  “I’ve seen you in the audience during the last few weekends. Watching. Waiting. Too bad you didn’t make your move sooner. No problem.” His eyes lowered to her mouth. “We still have tonight.”

  Kane’s smoke-laced voice alone was enough to make Joplin’s toes curl. Add the way he looked at her as though they were the only two people in the world, and she could have melted right then and there. But she didn’t.

  Made of sterner stuff, Joplin raised an eyebrow, held his gaze for a slow count of five, then turned away with a scoff and directed her comment to Jax.

  “What’s his objective? For me to fall at his feet in gratitude or run for the hills in horror?”

  Jax grinned as a glint of disgruntled disbelief bloomed in Kane’s eyes. Morgan snorted. Beck, too. Good, Joplin thought. Best she let them know from the get-go who was in charge. She was young, and while she might look like a babe in the woods ripe for the big, bad wolf to gobble up in one bite, behind her dark-rimmed glasses and clear green eyes was a fighter, tougher than she looked and battle tested.

  Whatever Kane Harrison wanted to throw her way, she was prepared to catch and send back with plenty of zip on the ball.

  “Guess you aren’t here for an autograph.” Kane looked her up and down. “Or anything else we have to offer.”

  “An autograph, no,” she told him. “However, you do have something I want.”

  “Really?” Kane dropped the charm in favor of a sneer. “Do tell.”

  Ignoring him, she held out her hand to Jax.

  “My name is Joplin Ashford, by the way. And I want to help turn Razor’s Edge into the biggest rock band in the world.”

  The line hadn’t sounded as over-the-top cheesy when she practiced her delivery. Still, Joplin could tell when the look in Jax’s startling blue eyes went from surprised to intrigued, she hadn’t blown her chance with too much hyperbole. His hunger for success, combined with keen ambition made him open to what she had to say.

  Joplin’s job was to grease the wheel, to whet the band’s interest. Not exactly a tease, more of an appetizer for when Danny arrived with the main course. The card she handed Jax didn’t belong to her but to her uncle.

  “I work for Danny Graham Management.”

  “Doing what?” Beck asked.

  Since the drummer was by far the friendliest and most welcoming, Joplin gave Beck her brightest smile.

  “Most of the time, I’m on the road scouting talent. When I find an act worth Mr. Graham’s attention, I let him know. In three years, you, Razor’s Edge, is the best I’ve seen. In fact—”

  “What exactly are you offering?” Jax wanted to know.

  Joplin looked from band member to band member. They were skeptical, Kane especially, and she didn’t blame them. They were smart to question everything she had to say.

  The music industry was filled with big-talking talent agents who promised fame and fortune but delivered nothing but disappointment. Worst were con artists out to make a fast buck on the back of someone else’s talent. More than one eager young singer, desperate to have their dreams come true, had been scammed and left with nothing but bitterness and regret.

  Joplin was young, close to them in age, their contemporary. As far as they knew, she could be blowing smoke up their butts. The members of Razor’s Edge would find out soon enough that she meant every word and had the means to follow through. Until then, she would give them some privacy to mull over what had to be an overwhelming turn of events.

  “As we speak, Danny is in a car, on his way from the airport.”

  “Kind of late to do business,” Jax said.

  “You’ll soon learn that the music business runs 24/7. There’s no such thing as too early or too late. When Danny arrives, I’ll text you. Until then, take some time to talk.” Joplin paused as she turned to leave. “Check the internet. Do some research. You won’t have any trouble finding all the information you need.”

  Unable to help herself, Joplin gave Kane one last glance. Finding his eyes on her, she felt a flare of heat warm her blood.

  Full of himself, Joplin thought. God’s self-proclaimed gift to women. But not to her. She was in control. If Kane Harrison thought otherwise, he was the one asking for trouble.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ♫~♫~♫

  KANE PACED ONE small area of unoccupied space. Out of necessity, the four of them shared one tiny motel room and two double beds. Their old van was fine in a pinch, but when they could afford the luxury, they splurged on a place to lay their heads for the night.

  “The biggest rock band in the world?” he grumbled the question into a can of beer before taking a gulp. Used to the cramped quarters, he weaved around a guitar case without breaking stride. “Why didn’t Joplin Ashford claim she could make us the biggest band, period?”

  When Kan
e would have ramped up his rant, the sound of Jax’s hand hitting the laminated end table startled him into silence.

  “She bruised your ego. Get over it. Get over yourself.”

  “My ego is just fine.” Kane crumpled the empty can into a ball. “I just don’t want us to wrap our hopes around a slip of a girl who can’t be more than what? Nineteen?”

  “Long as she delivers on even half her promises, her age is irrelevant.”

  Kane frowned. As usual, his brain was a little hazy from a steady consumption of booze, but, as usual, he hadn’t crossed the line to where he wasn’t able to keep his wits about him. From what he could tell, Joplin Ashford hinted at the brass ring but left the details vague. She hadn’t promised them jack shit.

  “Could be a scam.” Beck leaned against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles. “For a thousand bucks, we’ll make you a star.”

  “Set their sights on the wrong chumps,” Kane snorted. “Between us, we don’t have a thousand pennies, let alone dollars.”

  Jax took a magazine from his suitcase. He tossed the copy of Rolling Stone to Kane. “Page forty-six. Danny Graham is bigtime.”

  Beck straightened. Walking across the room, he could read the article over Kane’s shoulder. The writer called Graham a music legend, lauding him with praise and little criticism.

  If not for the source—Rolling Stone was their bible—Kane would have thought the man was too much of a good thing. Still, he’d seen too much, experienced firsthand the underbelly of what life had to offer, to give his stamp of approval easily.

  “You’ve been unusually quiet.”

  Jax directed his comment to Morgan who sat on the edge of one bed, legs crossed in a meditative pose. Eyes closed, he breathed deeply, in and out. While the rest of them vibrated with uncertainty, he was the king of cool.

  Morgan exhaled. “Show me a concrete offer, details, schedules, money. Then we’ll talk.”

  Flipping the copy of Rolling Stone across the room, Kane’s lips formed a satisfied smile when the magazine slapped Jax square in the face.

  “Morgan’s right,” he said. “Sure, for now, we barely scrape by from booking to booking. At least we call the shots. No one’s pulling us one way, pushing us another.”

  “Change your music, cut your hair,” Beck sneered in an exaggerated, sing-song voice. “I’m all for fame and fortune, Jax. But not if the price is the loss of our creative control.”

  “Never was boy band material.” Kane shuddered at the thought. “Same shirts, same hair gel, dainty choreography.”

  “Hit the brakes,” Jax warned. “Before anything is decided, we listen, we discuss, we get legal advice. Then we decide, together. Agreed?”

  “And we ask a lot of questions,” Beck added.

  “I have a question.” Kane frowned. “What kind of name is Joplin?”

  Sorry he said anything, Kane stifled a groan. He didn’t care about Joplin Ashford, her name, or anything else. Sweetly sexy, with killer green eyes and lips he could happily kiss for hours on end. However, he reminded himself with a firm mental shake, she was just a girl. To be fair, a girl with the power to help Razor’s Edge away from touring the college circuit and to the big time—if they could believe her.

  “We’ve worked our asses off to get someone like Danny Graham, someone with clout, to take notice,” Jax said with a warning look aimed straight at Kane. “Do not blow what might be our only chance because, for once, a woman didn’t fall at your feet.”

  “Sheesh.” Kane slumped into a chair. “All I did was ask about her name.”

  Jax and Beck continued to speculate about what they might expect when Danny Graham arrived. Kane listened with half an ear, his mind wandering. He didn’t like to think about the past. Too many harsh memories for his liking.

  Yet, the reason Kane was here, in a motel room with three other motley musicians, instead of alone, or dead, had everything to do with the past and the day he met Jaxon Cross.

  Born in a small town just outside of Houston, Kane wouldn’t call himself a child of the south. His father’s wanderlust and a propensity for wearing out his welcome meant they never stayed in one place long enough to put down roots. Niles Harrison possessed just enough charm to make friends fast. His beg, borrow, or steal philosophy of life meant he lost them just as quickly.

  Niles never owned up to failures, the blame always lay with someone else. He was a taker, a thief, a drunk, and a bully without an ounce of conscience. After wearing out his welcome in America, he decided to try his luck on a different continent. A fresh start.

  For no special reason, Niles chose Australia. Barely eight years old and longing for his own new beginning, Kane begged his father to leave him behind. All he got for his trouble was a backhand across the face.

  Kane never knew for certain where Niles found the money—stolen, no doubt. But a week later, they were on a boat to Sydney. Miserable, he couldn’t know fate was about to do him a huge favor.

  Though at first, Kane thought the new country would be the end of him, Australia turned out to be the place he truly began to live.

  “Remember the day we met?” Kane asked as Jax sprawled onto the nearby bed.

  “Eleven years ago.” Jax shook his head in wonder.

  Eyeing his open knapsack, Kane licked his lips as he pictured the half-empty bottle of cheap tequila tucked under a freshly laundered t-shirt. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he longed to drain the contents in three hearty gulps. Knowing how Jax worried about his drinking—with good reason—he squelched the urge. After all, the bottle wasn’t going anywhere.

  “You saved me.” Kane held up a hand when Jax would have protested. The truth was the truth. “My old man beat the shit out of me and dropped me on the side of the road.”

  Sometimes, Kane could talk about what happened to him with a feeling of detachment—as though the horrors of his childhood happened to someone else. Other times, when the memories were so vivid, they threatened to bring him to his knees, he lost himself in the blissful haze of booze and drugs. Right now, he landed somewhere in between.

  “If you hadn’t come along…”

  “I ran for help.” Jax shrugged. “Literally the least I could do.”

  Kane knew better. In the careless world where he grew up, Jax would have stepped over his bruised, bleeding body and never looked back. He was raised to do better, to care about his fellow human beings.

  “Your parents took me in. Cared for me. Fed me. Tried to teach me right from wrong.” Kane’s chuckle was filled with irony. “Failed, but I appreciated the effort.”

  Laughing, Jax nodded.

  “Stray dogs. Stray boys. Mom and Dad had a weakness for both.” He sobered. “If only your bastard father had let you be.”

  Like the proverbial bad penny, Niles Harrison was impossible to shake. Jax’s father tried his best to keep Kane safe, but as too often is the case, the law fell on the wrong side of justice.

  “Didn’t want to take a chance I might be happy.” Kane rubbed a hand across his face and sighed. “Misery loves company, and there was never a more miserable son of a bitch than my old man.”

  “Kept finding your way back to us, though.” Jax met Kane’s gaze and smiled. “Dad said he never met anyone more single-minded.”

  One glorious summer, Kane and Jax spent their days working on the Cross’ sheep ranch under the hot Australian sun. At night, a cool breeze blowing through their bedroom window, they played their guitars until their fingers bled. Writing songs and singing into the wee hours until their voices blended into a natural, harmonic rhythm.

  Happier than he thought he had the right to be, Kane waited in dread, expecting his father to arrive at any moment. Instead, he received a phone call from the Melbourne police. Niles was found in a back alley, track marks on his arm, an empty needle by his lifeless body.

  The coroner ruled the cause of death to be an accidental overdose. Kane didn’t care enough to wonder if his father�
��s dirty dealings finally caught up with him. Whether Niles died by his own hand or with the help of an enemy, he was gone. There was no one to grieve, especially his son.

  “God, we were young.” Jax reached for his ever-present guitar and strummed a random tune. “So many dreams. Fame, fortune, superstardom. Think they’re about to come true? Are Joplin Ashford and Danny Graham our ticket to the top?”

  The hope, the need, in Jax’s voice reached into Kane’s chest, wrapping a fist around his heart. They weren’t big on mushy declarations. However, he loved the guy. They were friends, brothers by choice.

  A wave of protectiveness washed over Kane as his hand tightened into a fist. He would lay down his life for Jax without a second thought, and he would take out anyone who screwed with his best friend’s dreams.

  “Well?” Jax urged. “What do you think? Did you believe her?”

  “Sure,” Kane said with an easy shrug he didn’t feel. “Why not?”

  “She seemed sincere.” Jax sighed, his body relaxing as he continued to softly pluck at the guitar strings. He sent Kane a sheepish look. “Don’t laugh.”

  “No promises,” Kane said, his lips twitching in anticipation.

  “I know we just met her.” Jax cleared his throat as though he found the words hard to push out. “I feel, down in my bones, that we can trust Joplin Ashford to keep her word.”

  “Guess we’ll find out pretty soon.”

  Kane didn’t laugh. In fact, it was all he could do not to grab Jax and shake some sense into him. In his experience, trust was a precious commodity, something you didn’t give until the other person proved their worth.

  On one hand, Kane could count people he trusted. Jax topped the list. His parents were a close second and third. Over the last two years, he’d add Beckett and Morgan.

  Five wasn’t a large group, but a man could do a lot worse. When Kane’s father died, his friends numbered zero.

  Joplin Ashford. Kane’s mouth watered as he pictured the pretty blonde. Well, shit, he thought, cursing himself and his wayward libido. He wanted her—more than he cared to admit. Something told him she would be a tasty morsel, sweet, with just the right amount of spice sprinkled in to make things interesting.