Twisted

by Cari Quinn

  He threw back his head and sucked in a long, slow breath. No, he didn’t need a gun. Didn’t need to panic, either. As long as he got them the money he’d promised, he had nothing to worry about. Just in case, he’d keep Jazz close to his side.

  “Yo, man, you coming? Ride’s here,” Nick called through Gray’s closed bedroom door.

  “Yeah.” Gray opened the door and clamped his fingers around the knob. The words were out before he could stop them. “Look, I need you to do me a favor. And I don’t intend to say more about it than this, so don’t bother asking.”

  Nick kicked back against the wall in his best don’t give a shit pose, eyebrow lifted. “Okay.”

  “I know you care about Jazz, and her well-being is the most important thing. Just keep more of an eye on her than usual for the next few days, all right?” Gray swallowed, trying to force down the lump in his throat. How had he gotten to this point? “I’m going to make sure I’m with her as much as possible, but if I’m not, I need to know you’ll have her back.”

  He expected Nick to argue. To demand to know how deep he’d gotten. If the positions had been reversed, he probably would have. But from the resigned lock to Nick’s jaw and his hooded eyes, he already knew.

  Nick nodded and walked down the hall. Abruptly, he stopped. “You owe it to her—if not yourself—to end this.”

  Gray hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t know if Nick was referring to the coke or to his relationship with Jazz, period. “I’ve got it under control.”

  Nick glanced back and smiled, the warmth never reaching his eyes. Then he kept going out the front door, letting it thud shut in his wake.

  * § *

  “How y’all doing tonight, LA?” Simon’s shout to the crowd at Rave made them scream even louder. “Who’s ready to fucking rock?”

  From behind the kit, Jazz flexed her foot on the pedal. Something felt off and she couldn’t figure out what. Between Gray’s strange lurking around her and then his last second demand for a setlist change, he definitely wasn’t acting right. He’d insisted “Sugar Kiss” come off the list, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. She’d thought that over their past few days apart, he’d cooled off a bit from his sexist stance but evidently not. The weird thing was that he’d really seemed to be coming around yet tonight he’d backslid big time.

  Even more oddly, he’d hovered around her offstage, while onstage he hadn’t looked at her once. Normally they teased each other before a show, exchanging winks and quips to break the pre-performance tension. Tonight he hadn’t even made eye contact. He wasn’t engaging the crowd either while Simon went through his revving up routine. Normally Gray got into it too. His focus tonight remained entirely on his guitar.

  “Get up on your feet, LA!”

  At Simon’s directive, she forced a smile and started the steady buildup to “Balls To The Wall.” The song was fairly straightforward and didn’t require a lot of thought on her part, just mainly keeping the beat, so she was able to watch Gray. He didn’t respond to Nick’s good-natured—usually—posturing and taunts and barely seemed aware of Simon’s showboating across the stage.

  Their lead singer was in rare form tonight, owning the space and sucking up so much of the energy in the club that it began to feel like they were Simon’s back-up band. But that helped disguise Gray’s lack of involvement beyond his manic playing. Rather than take part in the band’s antics, he focused on the instrument he cradled like a lover, plucking out notes that shrieked and wailed and raged. All of his passion funneled through his hands and became something inescapably beautiful.

  And throughout, she counted off the beat, serving as the backbone to the music that roared around her just loudly enough to quiet the questions in her mind.

  They went through their modified setlist without faltering, but their crazy cohesive energy from the other night had vanished. On the surface, everything seemed fine. Nick even bantered a bit with Simon and Deak in between “Lit” and “Ripcord,” which was about as rare as Gray not looking up from the strings.

  Stylistically, he was perfect. Didn’t miss a freaking note. His face, though, never changed. He wore a stoic mask, the playful Gray from Tribute driven so far underground that she wondered if she’d imagined the whole thing.

  The end of the show took a lifetime to reach and also came way too fast. She wasn’t ready for him to turn that mask on her. Seeing those eyes she loved so much frosted over like the coldest winter day hammered spikes of ice in her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. She didn’t know how to reach him when he was like that—the way he’d been for much of the past year.

  But God, since they’d been together, it had been different. Yes, they’d only had a string of days together so far. She’d hoped it was a beginning.

  She refused to believe it wasn’t.

  As the stage cleared out, she peeled off her fingerless gloves and flexed her achy hands, waiting for the right moment to pounce on Gray. Turns out she didn’t have to bother. Once Gray handed off his guitar to the crew, he appeared at her side, closer than a shadow.

  “You were fantastic tonight.” He stroked her cheek and gave her his beloved Gray smile, the one he saved for her alone. Not the public cordial one, or even the sex-personified rock star one. The one he’d been flashing at her since the first day in his parents’ living room, when he’d discovered she played the guitar too.

  The first link in a chain of so many. She wanted that chain to be unbreakable. To be too strong to weaken or corrode. Nothing—not her goals, or her ambition, or even her principles—mattered more than building a family with Gray. She hoped she could have it all. She would try her hardest to make it happen. But if she had to choose, she would always choose him.

  Because he had always chosen her.

  “Thanks. So were you. You were kind of into your own thing, huh?” she teased, not expecting the flash of heat that came into his eyes.

  “I’m into you, always.” His thumb smoothed over her lower lip. “Come back with me tonight. Don’t make me sleep alone again.”

  She knew she should ask questions. Maybe even tell him that this bit of distance between them was good. Everything was moving so fast. But after the years they’d spent circling each other, fast seemed to be the only speed that made sense.

  And she didn’t want to sleep alone anymore either. Now that she knew what it was like to fall asleep wrapped up in arms and wake curled against his side, she didn’t want to go without.

  Then there were all the hours they spent together before sleep…

  She nodded and reached out to cup his jaw. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I am now. Just stay in the cabin with me, baby. Please.”

  The tremor in his voice had her nodding again. He really had missed her. She smiled for his benefit and stroked her index finger over his eyebrow ring. “How can I say no to a sexy, sweaty rock god in denim and leather?”

  “I’m not a rock god with you. I’m just a guy who’s in love with a girl.”

  She launched herself into his arms and pressed her face into his damp hair. His laughter rumbled through her, sweet and reassuring, and his arms banded around her like steel, holding her up. He would never let her fall.

  “Let’s go.” She eased back and grinned. “My plans for the night just got a lot more interesting.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Then

  “You can’t just bring a couple of pairs of shorts and T-shirts. What if the Minors want to take you out to dinner somewhere fancy?”

  Gray snorted and tossed a pair of rolled-up socks in the open suitcase beside her on the bed. “The Minors aren’t going to be home. Think you’re missing the point, squirt. This is the final party before college. A long weekend to rip it up on the beach—”

  “Yeah, because there are no beaches here.” Jazz dug a pair of his board shorts out of the suitcase. “These are surfer shorts. You don’t surf.”

  “Sure I do. Just not particularl
y well.” Grinning, he snatched the shorts and tossed them back in the suitcase. “You should be happy I’m leaving. Now you’ll get a whole long weekend to yourself to practice Krystal Sword’s latest material in the basement without me prodding you to take it up a notch.”

  She wrapped her arms around her updrawn legs and dropped her chin to her knee. Moping wouldn’t do her any good. Her life was going pretty well. She’d recently joined Gray’s band for real—no more probationary period—and she’d made it through the school year with nothing lower than a C. She’d gotten her job at the waffle house, and it wasn’t completely sucky.

  Hell, she even had a couple of friends. And none of them laughed when she brought her not-quite-brother with her to parties. They were kind of a fixture now. Gray-and-Jazz. Jazz-and-Gray. Where one went, the other wasn’t far behind.

  Soon, he would be so far ahead of her that she couldn’t ever hope to catch up.

  “I wish I wasn’t so fucking young,” she whispered.

  “Say what?” He started to laugh, but then he must’ve seen her face because he fell silent.

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  He sat beside her, too close as always. The boundaries between them seemed to grow thinner by the day, and a part of her rejoiced at that. The rest knew she couldn’t let it happen. Somehow she had to erect barriers strong enough to keep him out.

  Not when it came to her body. Sex was easy. She’d finally had it for the first time a couple of months ago when Gray was gone for a weekend visiting Berkeley. It had been fine. No big deal. She and the guy were still friendly. But matters of the heart were a different story. She’d already let Gray in way too far, especially since he was going to leave.

  Forget going to. Every time she looked into his eyes, she saw that his bags were already mentally packed. He was ready to move on from life in suburban Vista View.

  Ready to move on from life with her.

  “You know, it’s not going to be easy for me either,” he said quietly. “You’re my best friend. Do you honestly think I want to leave you?”

  She couldn’t restrain her laugh. “Dude, you’re so eager to go. Don’t even try to hide it.”

  “I’m eager to go somewhere new, try something different. But I’m not the least bit excited about leaving you.” He grabbed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I have an idea.”

  “Uh oh.”

  He grinned. “Let’s you and me spend the weekend together. Somewhere far from here.”

  She blinked. Blinked again. She wasn’t sure what he was suggesting, but the possibility made her tingles have little tingle babies. “You don’t mean…”

  “Let’s go somewhere and get a room—a couple of rooms,” he said quickly. “Bring our guitars and sit up playing all night, writing fucking awesome music.”

  And fucking. Please God.

  But she didn’t say that, because that couldn’t happen for a million reasons. Not the least of which was that she wanted the Duffys to adopt her. Her screwing around with their son wouldn’t exactly show them she was worthy of the title of daughter. Plus, it seemed seriously squicky. She and Gray weren’t related, but if she legally became his sister, that would change things. And she really wanted to be a Duffy.

  She also really wanted to have sex with Gray.

  “You already have plans. Why would you want to break them to be with me?”

  Lightly, he pinched the back of her hand. “You didn’t seriously just ask that, did you? Hello, I’ve broken plans this entire year to be with you. We have fun together.” He bumped her hip with his. “Don’t we?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Jeez, a little enthusiasm, please.”

  “Yes, we have fun. Always.” She grinned and tried to tamp down on her growing excitement. “But where would we go?”

  The width of his grin matched hers. “Anywhere. My graduation money’s burning a hole in my pocket so it’s dealer’s choice.”

  “San Francisco,” she said immediately, thinking of the stacks of postcards she’d sent away for from Chambers of Commerce all over the country.

  Imagining where else she could go had helped make the lonely nights in random foster homes seem more bearable. She dreamed of traveling all over the world, but the Golden Gate bridge had always called loudest and longest to her. She’d imagined standing on it so many times, looking out across the water, her hair blowing behind her in the breeze. Bright sunshine warming her skin, filling her up inside so nothing bad could ever touch her again.

  “How come?”

  “Because it reminds me of freedom.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. She waited for him to tease her, but he only nodded.

  “Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go to San Francisco.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Now

  This was either her brightest idea or her worst.

  Several days later, flush from a day of beautification—a manicure, a spa wrap and a new haircut and color, despite the warnings from her stylist that she’d probably end up bald—Jazz pulled up in the driveway of the cabin. She’d really found her groove working with Deak and Simon, and she wanted to extend that streak. Perhaps she could even start knitting the band back together. The two factions of Oblivion would only be separate for a couple more days, and if she could start linking the two groups ahead of time, that would make their upcoming weekend sequester so much more tolerable.

  She dug out her phone to text Gray.

  Come out and help me.

  His answer was nearly instantaneous. You’re here?

  She smiled, reading his anticipation in the question. I am. Now get your butt out here.

  Coming. Both ways soon enough, I hope.

  Depends how fast you move. She sent him a winky face then hopped down out of the truck.

  She’d arrived a couple of hours early tonight, hoping they could maybe get some practice time in with the new material she’d purloined from Deak and Simon. They didn’t mind her role as the band go-between, and they even seemed cool with her wanting to get Gray’s feedback on the latest stuff they’d come up with.

  And Nick’s too, of course, assuming he was in the mood to play well with others. That was always anyone’s guess. He’d had Tori, the girl groupie with really big boobs, over the last few nights and that had mellowed him out a bit. So Jazz was hopeful he’d still be in good spirits tonight.

  Jazz had just opened the back of the truck when the front door opened. As Gray’s familiar cedarwood scent drifted over her, she let out a relieved breath. No weed tonight or any of the other nights since their argument over the sugar video. Just her Gray.

  Thank God.

  “Hey you. After the long day I’ve had, you’re a sight for bleary eyes.”

  “Ouch. Bad one?”

  “No, all good actually. We worked on three more songs, including one that Nick’s been working on solo for a while. It’s looking like we might even have a surplus to take into the studio. But the day’s a million times better now.” He tugged her into his arms and covered her mouth with his, swallowing the laughter that followed. His tongue slicked over hers, quick and hot, stirring her moan before he moved back and swept a hand over her hair. “Red now? Christ, woman, being with you is like getting a new chick every night.”

  “Do you like it? Check out the streak of pink.” She ducked into the light beam from the truck and shook her head. “I cut a few inches off too.”

  “I love all of your looks.”

  “And here I thought you never noticed,” she teased.

  “You’re always gorgeous.” He rubbed a hunk of her hair between his fingers. “I do have a particular preference though.”

  For unknown reasons, her stomach sank. “Oh yeah? Which one?”

  “The one where you have beautiful all dark hair without a hint of color in it but night. Because you trapped all the sunshine inside.” He skimmed his fingers over her chin and tipped her face up to his again, sealing the words with a kiss.


  “Aww.” She framed his face between her hands and sighed into his mouth. “You say the sweetest things.”

  His smile turned wicked. “Just buttering you up for the dirty.”

  “Ha. Like you even need to.” She shivered at the cool wind that tinkled through the miles of trees around them. Uncharacteristically cold weather had settled into the area and she’d spent most of the day shivering and imagining snuggling with Gray under the duvet.

  “Let’s get you inside.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. Then he let out a startled laugh, evidently noticing her cargo. “Dude, you brought your drums? You moving in with me or what?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “I already did, smartass. We share an apartment, remember?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I’ve had the pleasure of living with you for a good portion of my life. But from now on it’ll be in the same bed.” He leaned in the back of the truck and grabbed her disassembled drum kit, hauling up the pieces with an easy strength that almost distracted her from what he’d said.

  Almost.

  It shouldn’t be that shocking to hear him talk about them being a real couple. She’d already said she wouldn’t settle for anything less, and he’d indicated the same. But it was still so amazing to imagine that it could be so.

  “We can actually share the same bed now,” she said softly.

  He turned back, his arms full of her kit, and grinned. “The minute we get back to our place, your stuff’s moving into my room.”

  She picked up her drum stand and slammed the truck shut, then followed him across the lawn. “What if I want you to move into my room?”

  “Mine’s bigger.”

  “Is this some kind of gender stereotypical reference? Because my uterus can carry a baby. Unless your sword of destruction can do that, I win.”

  “Point taken.” He choked out a laugh and shouldered open the front door. “I can’t wait to see that, by the way.”