But her defenses were cracking so that a smidgeon of pity wormed its way in. “She should hate you. But here she is thinking you did her a favor. Mason’s gone and she can do whatever she wants with the baby.”
His eyes popped open. “She’s thinking about terminating it?”
Jack joined him on the couch. After slipping her shoes off, she curled her legs under her. “Mason hating her was her biggest obstacle to going through with it. Now that you’ve told him and he wants nothing to do with her, who knows? She’s hurting and miserable without him. And you can’t fix that.”
“She’s really upset about him?” He peeked at her without turning his head.
Jack looked at Aria, who rocked steadily in her chair and rolled her eyes. “He’s her husband. Of course she’s upset. Just because you never gave him a chance doesn’t mean that he’s a bad guy. I actually think you would like him if you got over the fact that they got married without you.”
“When did you become the smartass of the family?” he asked.
“When Harper shut down. You know it’s bad when she’s not oozing cynicism.”
“I am sorry. You know that, right?”
“Sorry for all of it? Including telling Graham he had no business being in love with me?” she asked, poking her finger into his stomach, knowing he was probably as sore as Graham.
He winced and batted her hand away. “Guess you’ve seen him?” The hint of a smirk flashed on his face again. “You gonna yell at me about you now?”
“You’ve had enough for one day. One day soon, however, you’re taking me out to a nice breakfast and I get to tell you off in public.”
“I guess I deserve that,” he said.
Both Jack and Aria said, “You do,” at the same time. They looked at each other and started to laugh. Some of the tension evaporated, giving Jack hope that there would be a way to fix Hutton and Harper’s relationship, too.
twenty
Her sister hadn’t spoken in hours. Not even when Graham swore when Jack showed him the cupcakes wilting in the cooler. Jack filled him in on what was happening with Harper, briefly allowing her worry over the effect it would have on the shop to seep into her voice. He’d told her to give it time. That he’d take over icing duties until Harper’s abilities returned to normal. All she could do was nod in agreement.
She looked up as a customer came in. Graham slipped into the back, letting his hand graze her hip on his way by.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jack said to Pete.
His hair flopped in his face. Grinning at her, he said, “Epic term paper.”
“I don’t miss those.” She didn’t wait for him to order and pulled a gardenia cupcake from the case as the scent fluttered against her skin.
“So it made it on the menu?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t going to, but Graham said he didn’t bust his ass creating the flavor for nothing and added it to the rotation himself.”
“Smart man.”
“Yes, he is,” she agreed.
Pete leaned on the counter as he peeled back the wrapper. He inhaled deeply, watching her over the top of the cupcake. His blue eyes locked onto hers. “So, I know it’s last minute, but I’ve got it all planned out, Jaclyn.” He put his hand over hers on the counter and flashed a grin. He rushed on without giving her a chance to interrupt. “I’ve already staked out the best place to watch the race without being right down in it with everyone else. There’s this great little grassy area over on Coolidge where we can have a picnic.”
Jack slipped her hand from under his. It was damp from his sweat. Since he was watching her, waiting for a response, she didn’t try to wipe it off. “Oh, um, that’s really sweet. But Graham’s racing.”
“Even better. You can watch it from anywhere and he won’t know the difference.”
“I guess, but—”
“But your sister was right, huh? I don’t stand a chance against the baker,” he said.
Nobody does. Nobody ever will. But what she was going to do about it, she hadn’t decided. “I’m sorry, Pete.” She smiled, hoping to take some of the sting out of letting him down.
“Don’t be. Just promise me that if he’s dumb enough to let you go, you’ll give me a call.”
“Deal,” she said.
***
Harper walked around the shop the following day, rag in hand, wiping off the counter for the fourth time in an hour. The shop seemed imbued with her desolation. The tables refused to shine. The front door slammed shut on its own unless Jack propped a paint can against it. The display case was hazy, making the cupcakes look like color blobs in an impressionist painting.
The only thing Jack could sense was muggy air, which circulated through the open door.
“That’s it,” she said. “Put the rag down and step away from the counter.”
Harper blinked a few times. Her blue eyes were cloudy, distant. “What?”
“Nothing.”
She walked into the back and pulled a stack of folded paper from her purse. She skimmed the directions again and decided she had a pretty good idea where she was going.
“Wanna grab some dinner?” Graham asked.
Jack glanced up front to where Harper sat staring out the front window. “Um, no. I can’t. I kinda have something I need to do tonight.”
She shifted the paper with tour dates and times for Mason’s band under the drying rack.
“Yeah, that wasn’t evasive or anything.”
“I really do have something to do.”
Graham leaned on the door jamb and crossed his tree-trunk legs. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “All right. Let me come with you.”
“Would you?” She perked up. “I mean, seriously, you’d go with me? Because that would be a lot less creepy and stalkerish.”
“What exactly are we doing? And who are we doing it to?”
She pulled the paper back out and showed it to him. She put her finger to her lips to keep him from reading it out loud. “I thought that if I could get him to talk to me that maybe I could get him to talk to Harper. And before you start the lecture, I know I should stay out of it, but she’s so unhappy and so damn stubborn. I just don’t want them to regret not trying to fix it.”
“Yeah, you probably should stay out of it,” he said. “What time do we leave?”
Within ten minutes, Jack had gone online and purchased tickets to that night’s show and made some excuse to Harper that her sister only half listened to. She swung by Graham’s place and smiled when he met her downstairs in dark jeans and a form-fitting black tee, which showed off his biceps and flat stomach. His hair was wet, his face smooth from a quick shave.
They talked the whole way about everything and nothing. It was so natural, all of the tension of the past few months—years, even—replaced by a new level of intimacy that made Jack’s skin buzz without sensing a specific desire from anyone but herself.
“Take a left here and it should be a couple blocks up on the right,” she said when they’d reached a suburb on the outskirts of Atlanta.
The Laundro-Lounge—billed as the place for all laundry and live entertainment needs—had a line trailing from the front door and winding down the sidewalk for two blocks in each direction.
“I didn’t know they were so popular,” Graham said.
“Me, either.”
Graham navigated the crowds with the dexterity of a concert veteran. Holding on to her hand, he weaved through the throng of metalheads and punk rockers. He located the will-call line, which was only ten people deep.
They slipped in behind a trio of girls who couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Twenty, tops. In their miniscule black skirts, torn black hose, and combat boots, they were the quintessential hard-rock groupies. Jack didn’t have a scrap of black on. She hoped the tight navy tee would at least come off as marginally hard-core. Her tattoo added a smidge of credibility. There was nothing she could do about her one-color hair.
The sudden rush of air
sent a shiver up her arms. She smelled cinnamon and whiskey seconds before the girls pulled out a flask and each took a quick swig in turn. They grinned at her and turned away, giggling.
Graham picked up their tickets and they shuffled through the door. The bouncer checked their IDs and strapped hot-pink bands to their arms. Inside the light was dim at best. The laundromat, in the far back of the downstairs, was separated from the rest by glass doors. The florescent lights flickered as if in protest. There was a small bar, three pool tables, and a makeshift stage.
They followed the mass of people up the dank concrete staircase to the main stage. It emptied into a large room stuffed with people and wailing guitars. The music pumping from speakers vibrated down to her bones. Another bar teemed with people jockeying to get the bartender’s attention.
Jack spotted Mason moping around stage with his bass. While his band mates thrashed and jumped, he stayed tethered to his amp, eyes closed as if wishing he was anywhere else. She grabbed Graham’s shoulder and pulled him toward her. “They’re already on,” she yelled.
Graham leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “We’ll catch him after.” He turned and headed into the din.
She clutched at the back of his shirt, fisting it in her hand. He couldn’t get more than a step away from her without being pulled back. They weaved through the crowd and found a pocket of space near the right side of the stage where she had a clear view of her brother-in-law. Her vision blurred with tears. She blinked them back and took a deep breath. “He looks bad,” she said.
She didn’t realize she was still holding onto Graham’s shirt until he reached back and pried her hand away. But instead of letting it go, he let their joined hands drop between them. “I would, too,” Graham said.
Jack smiled as the scents of leather and smoke and beer that permeated the bar were replaced with sweet, subtle smell of mint and lime. It made her dizzy. She held on to him as much for support as to be close to him.
They played three songs she didn’t know and a heartbreaking cover of a Sarah McLachlan song. By the time Talking on Mute finished its set, the crowd pulsed with a near-violent energy. The screams for an encore echoed. Jack could see a sliver of backstage, where Mason disappeared into a mass of black-clad bodies.
“Ready to do this?” Graham asked.
As they walked downstairs, her ears started to buzz. She pumped her jaw to pop them. The sounds of footsteps and fast talking reverberated in the stairwell. She trailed after Graham to join the line by the merchandise table.
“What if he doesn’t want to see us?” she asked.
“It’s a little late for that now,” Graham said. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.
She squeezed his in return. “I know.”
After a few minutes, the band emerged from another stairwell at the back of the bar, sweaty and with beers in hand. They packed in behind the table and greeted fans.
Jack picked up a CD from the table and moved along the line to have it signed. She watched Mason as he sat signing liner notes, CD faces and, every so often, body parts.
“You a fan?” one of the band members asked.
“The biggest,” Jack said. Her voice was a little overeager. She sounded half drunk. Nerves buzzed like annoying gnats in her ears.
“So, how many shows have you been to?”
“Just this one. But it was fantastic.”
“So how are you our biggest fan if this is your first show?”
“I’m his biggest fan.” She pointed to Mason and continued, “I actually think I’m the founder and president of the Mason-Shaw-is-the-coolest-brother-in-law-ever fan club.”
He stared at her—the bar in his tongue caught the light and flashed. Shaking his head in confusion, he hit Mason on the shoulder with the back of his hand. His metal bracelets clanged like bells. “Dude, you know this chick?”
Mason stared at her, unsmiling. He rose and turned his back on her. He said something to his band mates that she couldn’t hear. Jack reached out to keep him from leaving. Her fingernails skimmed his soft sleeve. He leaned over the table and hugged her hard. His metal cuffs dug into her back.
A few of the groupies giggled and whispered how they hoped they got a hug, too. One guy wolf whistled. Somewhere close by, someone yelled for them to get a room. She jumped when Mason grabbed her ass. Graham closed in on them. His hand was firm and hot on the small of her back.
“Just playing,” Mason said. He held his hands in front of him to ward off Graham.
“How are you?” Jack asked.
The pain crept into his features. She watched him control it until he merely looked irritated. The black eyeliner intensified his stare, making her wonder if she’d imagined the hurt.
“Getting by,” he said. Then added, “Barely.”
“She’s not any better. If that helps.”
“Marginally.” He motioned them around the edge of the table to keep the line flowing. He introduced them to the rest of the band.
A few of them glared at her as if she had been the one to break his heart, not her sister. She attempted a smile.
“Y’all were awesome,” she said.
Graham got out money to pay for the CD.
“Harp has that one,” Mason said, waving off the money. “You can probably just get it from her. I’m guessing she won’t want to keep that, either.”
“I’m gonna let her make that call. But just a word of advice from someone who’s known her a hell of a long time: If you want a say in what she does or doesn’t do, you’re not gonna get it by keeping your mouth shut. You don’t have to forgive her, but you do need to talk to her,” Graham said.
Jack moved in closer so Mason could hear her over the babbling of excited fans. “Speaking for purely selfish reasons, I’d like you to forgive her. It’s been nice having you around, and I’d kinda like to keep you as my brother-in-law. But I understand if that’s not something you can do.”
“I honestly don’t know what to do yet,” he said. “But if y’all want to hang around for me to be done, we can grab a bite or coffee or something. It’d be really nice to talk about all of this with someone who doesn’t hate her. The guys are ready to kill her.”
Listening to the conversation, two of the closest band members grumbled. Both Jack and Mason glared at them. It did no good. They rolled their black-lined eyes and proceeded to ignore her completely. She moved off to the side while they signed even more merchandise.
The steady stream of fans dwindled after a half hour. The last stragglers were ushered out of the club a little before midnight. Jack and Graham waited outside while the band packed up and loaded the van. The musicians were meticulous, wrapping cords in tight circles and securing picks and drumsticks in pouches. Each instrument had a particular spot in the back of the van. With one member in the van, the others lined up, handing him items to arrange. He shouted triumphantly when it all fit with a small two-foot-square space left open.
She began to wonder if Mason had really meant for them to stay. Scribbling on a rumpled piece of paper, he said something to the guitarist before waving them all off. He handed her directions and said he’d meet them in fifteen minutes, give or take.
***
The diner was bright and smelled of grease and pie. The lights flickered a blinding white along the top of the windows, reflecting off of the glossy tabletops as if they were mirrors. The ancient booth cushions were battered, torn and sunken in. The white vinyl was dingy, gray in the more popular booths.
“How about that one?” Graham said, pointing to the table farthest from the other patrons.
Jack scooted into the booth, and though it was big enough to seat six comfortably, Graham sat close enough for his hand to graze her thigh. “Thanks for coming with me. I know you’ve got too much to do for Twilight to be spending the night with me,” she said.
“I think I can handle taking one night off,” he said.
Mason came in a few minutes later, wearing considerably less makeup
. What he hadn’t managed to wipe away was smeared around his eyes in thick, black smudges. The days-old whiskers and perpetually disheveled hair didn’t help his appearance.
Jack suppressed the urge to hug him.
“Sorry,” he said, sliding into the booth across from them. “Didn’t really want to talk in front of the guys. They’re not too keen on me taking Harper back.”
“I can understand that,” Graham said.
“Do you think you will?” Jack asked at the same time.
“No idea.” Mason shifted on the seat. It squeaked his discomfort. “Dude,” he said after a moment. He drew a circle in the air around his eye. “Heard about that.”
“You talked to Harper?” he asked.
“Nah. Hutton.”
Jack’s hand froze halfway to the small glass of water the waitress had left with the menus. “He called you?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t have answered it, but I was kinda hoping it was one of you two,” he said. “In person is way better though.”
When the waitress came to take their order, both guys ordered like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Jack started to order a coffee and a plate of cheese fries when the sweet scent of strawberries and biscuits and Cool Whip hit her from across the restaurant. Licking her lips, she changed her order.
She placed the sticky menu back in the holder on the table and scrubbed her hands with a napkin. The paper clung to her fingers like a spiderweb. She shook her hand to dislodge it. “What did Hutton want?”
“Did he apologize for being such a colossal jerk?” Graham asked.
“He just wanted to talk. Said everyone, me included, had a right to hate him. He didn’t say he was sorry, but I got the impression he’d already had to apologize to enough people.”
“He hasn’t really, but he will. And I doubt any of us will make it easy on him,” Jack said.
“From everything Harp told me about him, I never expected him to act like that. I kinda thought we’d hit it off like gangbusters.”
Jack laughed. “He’s usually really cool.”
Love and Cupcakes Page 26