by Cari Quinn
Lila ignored him. “A little of this type of gossip doesn’t hurt the band. Too much starts to get the focus off the music and on your backstage antics. That makes it my problem, especially when I think those antics have a very real possibility of causing serious trouble with Donovan’s investment.” She shoved the newspaper back in her briefcase. “I mentioned splitting you up to work on the album. After last night’s events, I’ve changed the bunking assignments. The five of you need to be able to work together like a well-oiled unit, and I want you to focus on what you’re here for—the music.” She nailed Nick with a brief look. “And only the music.”
“So let me get this straight.” Simon braced a fist on the table and squinted out of bleary eyes. “As long as we don’t marry anyone or screw around with our bandmates, we can fuck anyone we want?”
Lila appeared to weigh his words then nodded. “Essentially, yes.”
A grin split Simon’s face as he relaxed in his chair. “Sounds like a great deal to me.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you say that. You, Jazz and Deacon will be spending some quality time at the inn and spa. Which leaves the cabin and—”
Gray shot to his feet. “No. You’re not putting me with him.”
Nick matched his stance on the other side of the table. “Absolutely fucking not.”
Lila gave them a bland smile. “Perhaps you missed my memo that these assignments were not optional. You two represent the biggest problem in this band. Therefore, you will take this time alone to get your shit straight. Alone, without any pretty drummers to distract you from what’s important.”
“You have no right to do this,” Jazz said, her chin quivering. “We’re adults. How can you try to run our personal lives?”
“From the looks of things, you’re an adult, Jasmine. These two? That remains to be seen.” Lila planted her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I don’t give a flying fig who you bring into your bed, unless it has to do with this band. Then it becomes my mess to clean up. Right now? The three of you have mess all over you.”
“Lila, I’m not sure exiling Gray and Nick is the answer.” Deak tucked his hands under his biceps, his expression tense. “Maybe I should go with them, leave Simon and Jazz on their own.”
“Oh yeah, now that sounds like a recipe for fun. Living with Gray and having Saint Deacon around to run interference.” Nick shook his head. “Let me go get a pack of enemas from the drugstore and I’ll be all set.”
“Thank you for the offer, Deacon, but I have my reasons for the arrangements I’ve made. You’ll have three club shows during your time away to keep you in front of the public eye, and so I can evaluate the success of this experiment. Then, after you’ve each bonded within your individual groups, you’ll get a weekend all together to solidify the progress you’ve made. At that point you’ll be booked for serious studio time.” She consulted her tablet. “You all have two hours to head home to pack and be ready to leave. A car will pick each group up at that time. Bring only the essentials and anything you need to work.”
Deacon frowned. “What about Harper?”
“What about her? Is she a member of this band?”
“The guy should be allowed to bring his wife, for God’s sake,” Gray said, unable to stay silent any longer. “She’s pregnant.”
“I’m well aware of that fact. She’s not due for six months, correct?”
Deacon gave a reluctant nod.
“Then she’s fine to stay home for a couple of weeks while her husband travels to a neighboring town for a work trip. That’s what this is. It’s not for recreation.” Lila’s smile turned feral. “In case I didn’t make myself clear about that last point, let me spell it out. Nick, Gray, you’re both to stay away from Jasmine outside the boundaries of Oblivion business. Keep your hands—and your other parts—to yourselves. Are we clear?”
Gray tightened his jaw until his bones cracked. “If we say no?”
“Then you’re choosing to put your spot in Oblivion at risk.” She consulted her tablet. “Pursuant to section 2.3 in the contract you all willingly signed with Ripper Records, you are to abide by a morality clause that includes, but is not limited to, restricting behavior that jeopardizes the position of the band in the public eye. That refers to excessive intoxication, drug offenses and personal involvements with other band members, et cetera. It’s all right here.”
It wasn’t the personal involvement section that shut Gray up, but the drug offenses. If he skidded on any more thin ice, he’d end up falling through the cracks.
Nick glared at Deacon. “Yeah, what was that about this being our dream contract, Papa Smurf?”
“Hey, if you could keep your dick in your pants, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
“His dick hasn’t been out of his pants with me.” Jazz got to her feet, her cheeks flaring pink. “Not recently anyway. All we did last night was practice. I thought that was what we were supposed to do. But I guess I’m the problem here, so I’ll just go.”
Gray rose, his hands in fists. When it came to protecting Jazz, logic went out the window. “If she goes, I go. End of story.”
“Newsflash, your contract says neither of you are going anywhere.” Lila sighed. “Look, people, just try this my way. See what you come back with and we’ll go from there. Okay?” She glanced from one member of the band to the next, landing on Gray last. “Okay?” she repeated softly.
Gray focused on Jazz. She lurked by the door, her eyes huge and stricken, her cheeks still flushed. She gripped the guitar pick necklace he’d given her like a lifeline. “You willing to do this, J? It’s your call.”
She shut her eyes and nodded. “Yeah. I’m in.”
Gray returned his attention to Lila. “Guess we’re going on a field trip.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Then
“So what do you think of Shadyside High?”
Jazz smiled at her new friend Stacey and tucked her leg up closer to her chest on her new bed. So much new. Mrs. Duffy had taken her shopping last week to buy stuff to redecorate Brent’s bedroom and she’d gotten to choose a bedroom set, rainbow sheets and a dresser for her early Christmas gifts. Not thrift store finds either but brand new.
She could hardly believe all the wonderful things happening to her. Now this. She’d finally made a friend at school. It had only taken three months. Stacey was super popular too and had promised to introduce Jazz to all of her cool friends, including Toby Daniels, last year’s prom king. Stacey claimed to know “for a fact” that Toby had been asking questions about Jazz.
Jazz figured it was too good to be true, but she didn’t care because she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. School and her music kept her busy enough. Still, it was nice to pretend Toby might’ve taken notice of her for a positive reason instead of a negative one.
“I like it. It’s too huge, though. Kind of overwhelming. I only stopped getting lost on the way to my locker just two weeks ago—” Jazz broke off and frowned as Stacey pointed at Jazz’s knee. Today’s artwork included a G-clef and a stack of books. “Yeah, I draw on myself when I get bored.” She tried to laugh. “Weird, huh?”
“A little, but you’re like, creative, so that’s part of the deal, right?” Stacey flopped on her back and spread out her arms. “Wow, this room is just so amazing. You must freak living here.”
Jazz leaned back against her headboard, looping her arm ever so casually over the top of her knee. “It is pretty sweet.”
“Sweet? That pool out back is gigantic. I even saw a frigging Benz in the garage. Your family has serious moolah.”
Jazz started to explain that the Duffys were her foster family, not her real one, but she pressed her lips together and nodded. What did it hurt to pretend for a couple of minutes? She wanted them to be her family more than anything. This was the closest she’d had to a real home since she was little, back when things had been semi-okay with her mom and grandma. Her mom had worked long hours, but she’d always come back eventually and Nana h
ad been so much fun.
After her mom hooked up with Jacob and gave birth to Molly, things started to change. By the time Nana died, they were moving from house to house. It wasn’t long before her mom started coming home from nights out with Jacob with a black eye. When her mom had begun talking about moving them in with her boyfriend, Jazz had rebelled hardcore. She knew they shouldn’t live with a guy who was abusive, but her mom had refused to listen.
Then she’d thrown up her hands and Jazz had ended up in foster care.
Stacey giggled. “I mean, if you gotta be a foster kid, it’s better to land with a rich family, right?”
Jazz smothered her sigh. No point in pretending after all. She should’ve known that word had traveled all the way through school. “I don’t really care about the rich part.” She stroked her silky pillowcase. “The Duffys are incredible. They’ve made me feel so welcome.” Except Brent.
“You’ve gotta tell me what it’s like.” Stacey rolled on her stomach and propped her chin on her fists.
Jazz smiled, glad for the distraction from her thoughts about her mom and Mol. She tried not to dwell on them, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. Where were they now? Did they ever think of her?
“Jazz?”
“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”
“You have to tell me what it’s like to live with Gray. He’s so…gah.” Stacey grinned and grabbed her chest.
Jazz’s smile faltered. She should’ve known this was coming. Only she would be dumb enough to think she’d actually made a genuine friend when she hadn’t managed to make any in three months. “He’s pretty awesome,” she said, dropping her arm to her side.
Screw it. Why should she hide herself when people weren’t paying attention to her anyway? She was just the girl who got to live with Gray the hottie.
“I went to see Krystal Sword once and he made out with a girl right on stage. Touched her boob and everything. I got so hot I did it with my boyfriend Craig the first time that night.”
Jazz’s eyes widened. “You’re not a virgin?”
“Nope, haven’t been for months. Are you?”
Jazz nodded. Despite what her mom and her caseworker had believed, she’d stayed out past curfew to go to clubs and hear live music most of the time, not run wild with boys. Guys had been involved a couple of times, and she’d definitely made it past second base and halfway to third, but no one had gone near what her mom used to call her “inner sanctum” yet. “Yeah.”
“You should do it with Gray.”
“What?” Jazz clapped her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter from spilling out. “He’s got…girlfriends.”
She couldn’t say he had one in particular, but even so, the idea was ludicrous. In spite of that weirdness with Brent at Thanksgiving a few weeks ago, she’d never believe for a second that Gray had feelings for her beyond friendship. He saw himself as her older brother, she was almost sure.
Thank God he never read her other notebook. The sexy one, where she did things with Gray in her songs that she’d never ever tell anyone.
“So?” Stacey nudged her arm. “You could be one of them too. Nothing wrong with hooking up with a guy. Then another guy. And another one.”
“Didn’t you just say you had a boyfriend?”
“Had. Now I’m checking out my options.” Stacey did a hip flex that made Jazz giggle again. “Hey, my friend Beth is having a party next Friday night. I’m positive Gray’s going. You should come too.”
“What about Toby?”
“He’ll be there too. Throw out a couple arrows. See which one hits.” Stacey grinned and grabbed her arm. “Come on, say you’ll come. It’ll be so much fun.”
“Okay, sure. But my curfew’s at ten. I gotta be home before then.”
“Absolutely,” Stacey said before bouncing up into a sitting position. “Let’s go raid your closet and find you something hot to wear.”
Jazz took a deep breath. She didn’t have to do anything crazy. It was just a party. Maybe she’d make some new friends, dance a lot, drink a little. But she wasn’t having sex with anyone.
Especially not Gray.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Now
Jazz faced her closet, hands on hips. “Fuck.”
How was she supposed to fit that many days’ worth of clothes into one suitcase? Essentials only. Pfft. They were going to a spa. That required fabulous outfits to go with her hair and makeup makeovers. Plus, she needed her gear. She couldn’t be ready for serious work without her stuff. This was technically a writing/bonding session, so she wouldn’t need her regular kit. She had a portable drum kit that she could use in a pinch, as well as her keyboard, but she’d have to bring both guitars since she couldn’t decide between Gray’s old Stratocaster or her newer Fender. She couldn’t write music without a guitar in her lap. Probably a holdover from her days spent in the Duffys’ basement with Gray.
Everything circled back to him eventually.
Before she could check the impulse, she called the one person who could understand her dilemma. The minute she heard Harper’s voice, she swore. “Oh fuck. I forgot you had to get Deak ready to go. Sorry, I’ll catch you later.”
“Hold it,” Harper commanded. “We can talk for a minute. He’s a grown man. He can get himself ready for his trip. It’s not like he’s going to war.” She gave an uncertain little laugh. “It’s only a week.”
“Ten days.”
“Hello, I’m trying to be chill. Don’t ruin it.”
Laughing, Jazz tugged her hot pink mini dress off the hanger and tossed it in the direction of her bed. “Shutting up now. Except I can’t, because I need your advice. Should I bring—”
“About freaking time. I’ve been waiting for you to go after Gray once and for all.”
“My navy halter—wait, what?”
“You heard me. If you’re asking me if you should go for it with Gray, the answer is hell yes. When is going to be a better time than right now?”
Jazz sank onto her bed. “Any time would be better, considering we’ve been banned from going near each other.”
“Say what?”
Jazz ran through Lila’s diatribe at the meeting and sighed. “I’d decided to do it finally last night, but he didn’t show up. Then we kissed and he ran off to bang some girl, except he didn’t, I don’t think, and oh God, pass the Excedrin. It’s so much frigging drama. I hate drama.” She flung herself backward on the bed and stared at the glow-in-the-dark star decals she’d affixed to her ceiling. “Maybe this thing with Lila is the best thing that could happen. Maybe I’m not supposed to throw myself at him.”
Harper snorted. “Throw? I think if you even swayed in his general direction, he’d snap you up in a hot minute.”
“Did Deak tell you about that stupid gossip rag article? They had a picture of Nick’s hand on my ass. We didn’t even do anything. Yeah, he smacked me, but we just practiced and had a bit too much to drink.”
She must still be suffering from the aftereffects since she’d developed a bitch of a headache. Having to collect Gray from the cab and Lila’s meeting hadn’t helped.
“Oh yeah, ouch. I saw the stuff online. If you hadn’t called, I would’ve texted the minute big guy left. Love triangle, huh?” Harper whistled. “That’s inaccurate.”
“No kidding. Lamest love triangle ever. I haven’t had sex with Nick in more than six months, and I haven’t had sex with Gray since ever. My vagina gets less action than any of the guys’ hands and I get all the shit.”
“Sorry to say, but I think that’s part of being the only girl in a group of guys. You’ll always get slut-shamed while they get exalted for doing much worse stuff. It sucks.”
“Meh.” Jazz threw her arm over her eyes. “I’m tired, Harp. I think I’m pathologically allergic to angst.” Yet it kept chasing her, like a freaking fungus.
“You had enough to fill ten lifetimes before you joined Oblivion.”
“Yeah. Maybe I should just channel my frustration i
nto writing some dirty songs. Think the guys would be cool with calling the new album, ‘I’m horny’?”
Harper snorted. “Simon would be, no doubt.”
“Lila made it pretty clear that I’m enemy number one to all the guys’ penises in the group. Excluding your guy’s penis, of course. And Simon’s, because it belongs to about five thousand other women.”
“Ugh. And seriously? You’re adults. You should be able to do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t affect the band.”
“That’s the problem. It is. Plus I think Lila’s afraid someone else is going to settle down like Deacon did and screw the single guy dynamics with the fans.” Jazz grimaced and sat up. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t mean to bring Deak into it.”
“He is into it, and it’s a valid point. But people fall in love and get married. What’re you going to do? Put people in chastity belts until Oblivion’s gone platinum a few times?”
“Lila would love to, I think. Simon’s harmless. He’ll screw his way across the country and never settle down.”
“Like Nick would?”
“Yeah, that would be a no. But Gray and me, we’re the wild cards.”
“You think she can smell your baby fever on you?” Harper teased.
“Ugh, probably. I can’t help it.” Jazz grabbed a pillow and dragged it to her stomach. “You’re already adorably cute and you’re not even showing yet.”
“Aww, thanks. I don’t think it’ll be too long before I am, though. My jeans are already getting snug.” Harper sounded so content that Jazz would’ve hated her if she hadn’t loved her so much. “But we’re talking about you. You’re just going to let Lila tell you what to do?”
“What choice do I have? I think I need to lie low with her for a bit. Hopefully the gossip rags will forget us if we stay separate for the length of band camp. The paparazzi has a short attention span, right?”
“They do, but since I’m pretty sure they were fed by trolls closer to your inner circle—aka probably one of Simon’s screwees—I bet they’ll keep eating longer.”