by Tracy Wolff
“Shit. I’m sorry. I—”
“You think I give a damn about the photo request? I want to know whyyou didn’t tell me you got laid off.”
She shrugged, tried to blow it off. “It’s no big deal. With the recession, people aren’t eating out as much—especially at fancy restaurants. They had to downsize and since I was the last employee hired, I was the first fired. You know how it goes. At least they gave me a good , recommendation. It shouldn’t be that hard to find another job.” As long as she didn’t mind asking customers if they wanted fries with their burger, anyway.
“Do you have enough money to get by?” Jared asked as he followed her up the stairs to her third-floor apartment.
“Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”
He snorted, but didn’t say anything else as he waited for her to open her front door. Once they were inside her apartment—which she liked to think was furnished in shabby chic, but in all actuality was really just shabby—he sprawled across her couch and asked, “What happened to your car?”
She closed her eyes, blew out a long breath. She’d really been hoping he hadn’t seen her getting off the bus. “I was in a wreck earlier this week.”
“A wreck?” He jumped off the couch, crossed to her. “How bad was it?” he demanded, his eyes moving over every visible inch of her body, searching for damage.
“I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal. But my car’s not drivable right now.” Which technically wasn’t a lie, she told herself, since the stupid thing would never be drivable again.
Jared looked more than a little suspicious of her answer, but he didn’t call her on it.
Determined to get him off his line of questioning, she gave him a hug, then laid her head on his shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But did you seriously come all this way to talk about my car?”
“No. But now I think we’d better.” He glanced at the clock on her wall. “Where’s Charles? I thought you had plans with him tonight?”
“No, not with him.” She waved a hand dismissively. “We broke up. It’s no big deal—it was brewing for a while.”
“Really?” Jared’s eyes narrowed. “What did he do?”
She sighed, exasperated now. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
But as usual he wasn’t listening—or paying any attention to the back-off signals she was throwing out all over the place. “The jerk just happened to dump you the same week you lost your job and your car? When she didn’t answer, he ground out, “That bastard.” Jared pushed past her, walked into her postage stamp sized kitchen. Opened the fridge and stared at the dismal contents before slamming the door shut and turning back to her. “When were you going to tell me all this?”
“I wasn’t, actually. It’s none of your business.”
“None of my business? My baby sister is stuck in San Diego with no job, no car, and no boyfriend to help her out. Does that about cover the situation?”
“I don’t need a man to help me out! I’m not an imbecile, you know.”
Jared rolled his eyes. “I was talking about him giving you a ride every once in a while. This isn’t exactly a public-transportation-friendly town.”
Didn’t she know it? She’d been on four buses and the trolley today, and that was just what it had taken her to get home. “I’m fine. I—”
He cut her off with a downward slice of his hand. “You are patently not fine, sweetheart.”
His words cut right through her—even though she knew they were true. Her carefully organized life had spun completely out of her control and she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do about it. She tried to hide her discomfort, but Jared must have figured out how much he’d hurt her because he started backpedalling. “You know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that you have such a hard time accepting help. You always have, ever since Mom left. But, Jelly Bean, there’s nothing wrong with needing someone sometimes. I can help you. Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help!”
This time he was the one who winced. “Has it ever occurred to you that sometimes I need to help you? You’re my sister. I know you can do whatever you set your mind to. But I love you and I worry about you and I can’t just walk away and leave you here in this ridiculous apartment, with no job, no car, and no money.”
“I have some money. Besides, I don’t want to take advantage of the fact that —”
“What? That I’m a rock star? Give me a break. I have more money than I know what to do with. Let me give you some—”
“I’m not doing this with you, Jared.” She crossed to the door, opened it. “You need to go or you’ll be late for the concert.”
“I’ll leave when you come with me.”
“That’s not going to happen. I need to look for a job.”
“Here?”
“Where else?”
“I don’t know. Back home maybe? You moved here because of that job at that damn restaurant. Now what’s the point of staying?”
“I have a lease. I have a life here.” And absolutely no desire to run back home with her tail tucked between her legs. She’d left Austin with big plans. She wasn’t—she refused to be—her mother’s daughter, running home at the first sign of failure.
“Obviously.” She could tell the second his patience ran out. “Go pack a bag.”
“I’m not going home to Dad, Jared.”
“You’ve made that clear. So, fine. If you don’t want to go home, don’t. But then you’re coming on the road with me.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m not joking.” He shoved an irritated hand through his hair. “Why are we arguing about this?”
“I can’t just pick up and go on the road with you. What about the guys?”
“What about them? They’d love to have you.”
“Nothing like a little sister tagging along to ruin all the fun.”
Jared waved off her concern. “Trust me. Having you along won’t cramp anyone’s style.”
What about Ryder? she wanted to ask, but knew doing so would make her sound too much like a needy, insecure little girl—an image she was currently doing her damnedest not to project. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Even after everything that had happened that morning, she wasn’t sure she could deal with not cramping Ryder’s style. Seeing him with girl after girl, groupie after groupie. Her stomach churned at the thought.
Crossing to the window, she looked out over the parking lot. Watched a drug deal go down on the corner. And despite her better judgment, found herself asking, “What would I even do on tour with you?”
“Anything you want. Hang out. Party. Work on that book of recipes you keep saying you want to write.”
“And what am I going to do for money? Just live off of you?”
“Yes! Yes, live off of me! What’s wrong with me helping you out for a while?”
Nothing, except it would shred what little self-esteem she had left. “I can’t be a parasite, Jared. I just can’t.”
“You’re nothing like her.”
She turned away before he could see the tears she wasn’t strong enough to keep buried. But Jared knew. He always knew.
She’d spent her whole life watching their mother pop in and out of their dad’s life. Watching her get his hopes up only to disappear in the middle of the night with whatever money she could get her hands on. Jamison knew her father and brother would give her anything, everything, but she couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take the chance of ever becoming what her mother had always been.
“I can’t live like that, Jared. You know I can’t.”
Silence as he considered her words. Then, “What if there’s a job for you on the road with me?”
“Band groupie isn’t exactly a job. Especially when I won’t put out.” Except for Ryder. She was desperately afraid he could turn her into a groupie with little more than a touch. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t his type.
Jared just shook his h
ead, made a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “I was thinking more along the lines of a cook.”
“A cook? For the band?” she asked dubiously.
“Hell, yeah. We eat crap pretty much twenty-four-seven while we’re on the road. You could fix that.”
His voice gained enthusiasm as he warmed to the idea. “I can almost taste your apple pie now.”
She wanted to argue some more, but the idea had merit. She knew it did. She could go on the road for a few weeks as she looked for another pastry chef job, could cook for the guys and maybe even save a little. But, still …
Pride made her want to say no. There was a part of her that was deathly afraid that she was just like their mother. That all the crap that had happened this week happened because she was genetically predisposed to screw up her life. Giving in and running away with Jared just seemed to prove that idea.
But at the same time, her rent was due in two weeks and unless she found a job ASAP, she wouldn’t have the money. Her landlord wasn’t exactly the understanding sort, which meant she’d have to borrow from Jared or her father if she didn’t want to run back to Texas a total failure.
Just the thought of it made her skin crawl. She couldn’t handle being the cause of more disappointment to her father, couldn’t handle having the neighbors look at her the same way they’d looked at her mother. Like she was a failure.
Could she do this? she wondered, a slightly panicked feeling in the pit of her stomach. Could she just ride away with Shaken Dirty tonight after the show? Just leave behind the life she’d begun to make for herself here and start a new one? One where she actually created new recipes and wrote the cookbook she’d been playing with since her sophomore year in college? One where she lived for the moment instead of for her ten-year plan?
She thought of Charles. Of her lost job. Of the way her carefully planned life had imploded in less than a week. Jared’s offer was a godsend and she knew it. Especially with as tight as newspaper jobs were right now. And so what if he was giving it to her to get her out of trouble? She could still be the best damn cook any rock band had ever had while on the road.
At the same time, she couldn’t believe she was seriously considering her brother’s offer. Especially since Ryder came as a part of the package. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face him—that she’d ever be ready to face him after everything that had happened in that hotel room early this morning.
But the band did have two tour buses for their exclusive use. She’d just make sure that she was on whatever bus Ryder wasn’t. How hard could that be?
“Come on, Jamison.” Jared held a hand out to her. “Don’t make me leave you here alone. Come on the U.S. leg of the tour with us. It’s only seven weeks.”
To hell with it. Maybe a couple months away from her real life was exactly what she needed. As long as she pulled her weight, there’d be no problem. And she would pull her weight.
Reaching forward, she took her brother’s hand, squeezed. “How long before you have to leave for the amphitheater?”
He glanced at the clock on her wall. “I should have been out of here ten minutes ago.”
Trepidation was a tight ball in the pit of her stomach as she headed for the bedroom. But she’d made her decision and she would stick with it, even if a lack of options had speeded things along.
“I guess I’d better start packing, then.”
Jared breathed an audible sigh of relief even as he said, “Don’t bring anything that doesn’t fit in one suitcase. The buses are cramped.”
Jamison closed her eyes, blew out a deep breath at the warning. And prayed she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter Ten
She’d come.
Ryder couldn’t describe the relief that swept through him when he glanced toward the curtain and saw Jamison standing there in a pair of jeans and a tight tank top, hips wiggling and shoulders swaying to the beat Wyatt was laying down with his drums.
He’d been afraid she wouldn’t show tonight, afraid he wasn’t going to get another chance to apologize for the shitty way things had ended up between them that morning. The tour was playing a show in Portland tomorrow night and Shaken Dirty planned to head out right after they finished their set.
As it was, he’d have to talk fast if he wanted Jamison to listen to him. And he did want that. He was surprised by just how much.
They’d been friends for too long for him to leave things a mess between them. Especially when God only knew how long it would be before the band got back around to San Diego. They had seven more weeks on this tour, a few weeks off, then they were starting an international tour—just them and a couple of opening bands—that would take a solid eight months.
He couldn’t stand for Jamison to be mad at him for that long. The rest of the world, sure. He didn’t give a fuck. Hell, he relished it. But not Jamison. And not when he knew her very real anger at him covered up an even more real hurt.
The thought had him missing a note, not the first screw-up he’d had tonight. Jared shot him a what-the-hell look and Micah mouthed at him to pull it together. Which he was really trying to do.
He finished the song to wild applause—thank God the audience didn’t seem to mind the fact that he was all over the place tonight—then glanced toward the left wing again. Jamison was still standing there, a look of concern on her face as she watched him. It was that look that calmed him down, that convinced him he hadn’t fucked up their friendship too badly with his careless words and even more careless actions.
Suddenly, Jared knocked into him from his right side—hard—and he realized they’d launched right into “Careless” and he’d been so locked in his head that he hadn’t even noticed. Worse, he’d missed his cue—the whole first verse had turned into an instrumental.
Because he needed another way to screw up, right? Shit.
Forcing his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing—which was singing for a capacity crowd that had dropped at least a hundred bucks a pop to see him do just that—Ryder refused to look over at Jamison one more time. Doing so just messed with his mind.
He finished the rest of the concert without any more screw-ups—or at least any glaring ones. Jared had kicked his ass when they’d dueled, something the crowd had been completely aware of. But Ryder couldn’t bring himself to care. He was just too damn glad the concert was finally over.
He ripped out his earplugs as they headed off stage and Quinn was right there, in his face. “What the hell was that?” the keyboardist demanded. He hadn’t yelled, but with the level of intensity in his voice he might as well have.
“Nothing.” Ryder pushed past him, determined to get to Jamison before Jared did. But when he got to where she’d been standing just a little while before, she was gone.
Goddammit. Surely she hadn’t left without saying good-bye to the band, had she? No, she wouldn’t do that. No matter how mad she was at him, she loved the rest of the guys. She wouldn’t walk out without at least talking to them.
Then where the hell was she? He stepped further into the backstage area, looked left and right. But there was no sign of her.
“Answer him, dude.” Micah bumped him with his shoulder, hard. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”
Ryder ignored him, too, as images of Max—who’d sounded a hell of a lot worse than Ryder had on stage tonight—twisted around in his head. Panic raked sharp claws down his spine and he started to walk faster.
Where the hell was she?
“Are you even going to answer us, man?” Quinn again, and this time he put a restraining hand on Ryder’s arm. “We looked like amateurs out there tonight. In front of a sold-out crowd.”
“Where’s Jamison?” he burst out.
“What do you mean?” Jared looked confused.
“She was here, listening to the concert for a while. But she disappeared.” He was frantic and trying not to show it, but from the look on his bandmates’ faces, he wasn’t doing a very good j
ob. Damn it, if Max had gotten his hands on her…
He grabbed the roadie closest to him and yelled, “Have you seen Max?”
“Max?” The guy looked confused.
“Max Casey. From Oblivious.”
“No, dude, they’re gone. They pulled out forty-five minutes ago.”
Relief flooded him, so acute that he felt his legs go weak for just a second. He’d seen Jamison less than half an hour ago. Wherever she’d disappeared to, Max hadn’t gotten a hold of her again. Ryder hadn’t failed her a second time.
“Is that what you were so freaked out about?” Jared demanded. “I had a talk with Max a little while before we went on. I made sure he knows I’ll kill him if he touches Jamison again.”
The last of the tension left him as Jared’s words sank in. “Yeah, sorry. With that asshole on the loose …”
“No worries.” Wyatt’s words were a little slurred as he clapped Ryder on the back. “It’s all good. The crowd didn’t seem to mind.”
Ryder glanced around again. “So where’d she go, anyway?”
“Probably over to the bus,” Jared said. “Speaking of, I want to talk to you guys about something before we head back there.”
“What’s up?” Quinn asked.
Before Jared could answer, Wyatt stumbled while grabbing for a bottle of water, would have landed flat on his ass if Ryder hadn’t reached out and caught him.
The unmistakable scent of weed drew his attention. He replayed the last few minutes in his mind, realized Wyatt had been weaving a little. And now that he thought about it, he wasn’t the only one who’d had problems onstage tonight. Wyatt had screwed up a couple rhythms himself. Which wasn’t like him, except when—
“Dude, are you high?” he demanded.
“What? No! I just had a couple hits.”
Quinn and Jared both froze. Micah didn’t seem to notice, but then when did that guy ever think about anyone but himself? He was a damn good bass player, but that was about all he had going for him these days. That and the fact that he’d known Jared, Ryder, and Wyatt forever.