by Quinn, Cari
It felt like only a few moments later his phone let out an irritating fog horn alarm. As much as he wanted to hide out in his room with Harper and make love to her until her eyes were crossed, he needed to go downstairs. Jackson Miller had called an early afternoon meeting with the band. He’d been insistent that they do it now, and not at the end of the tour.
Was that because they’d be out on their asses tomorrow?
It felt like the tour had been successful enough to warrant at least entertaining the idea of an album. So what did it matter if they waited until after the last show?
The entire car ride, he’d gone over every possible scenario, including the implosion of the band thanks to Snake’s arrival. Loyalty was very much a part of Nick’s make up when it came to the band, and it was one of the reasons Deacon was here with them.
They hadn’t given up, even when it had looked hopeless. Even before the song he’d written with Gray had gone viral, there had been a steady decline in hope. Just how long could they pretend that Snake hadn’t been dragging them down?
And now, with Jazz and Gray? There was no doubt their new drummer had infused the band with life again. Even Snake at his best couldn’t touch the talent and drive that they found in her. Add in Gray’s innate talent that blended seamlessly on stage with Nick, and they were unstoppable now.
But if Nick was stupid enough to try to put Snake back into the band, would they even get a contract? Wouldn’t that ruin every chance they had? Jazz was the reason they’d exploded on the scene.
Nick had to know that.
A hand came up and caged over his nose and mouth.
“Stop thinking so loud. You’re interrupting my REM sleep.”
“I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”
She levered herself up and touched her nose to his. “Right. Like that’s going to happen. What’s up, big guy?”
“Just band stuff. Same as last night.”
She sighed then pressed her cheek to his. “Nick’s not dumb.” She crawled over him, stacking her hands on his chest so she could rest her chin on them and stare him in the eye. “He has dumb moments, like…oh, last night. But in the clear light of day, he’s going to realize that it’s not just about him anymore.”
“I want to believe that.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I have seen Nick do too many stupid things over the years to trust it.”
“Then why do you stay?”
He gently slid out from under her to sit on the edge of the bed. There were some days when he had to ask himself that very question. “Because I remember how it felt the first time I sat in with Simon and Nick on the boulevard just near Venice Beach. It was balls hot, and no one was paying attention to them.” He laughed. “Simon was singing his heart out to an old Led Zeppelin song and butchering the words.”
He eased back on the bed, and she curled onto her side to listen. “He was buzzed on cheap beer and high as a damn kite, but there was magic there. Nick was laughing at him and kept shouting out the correct words, but Simon didn’t care.”
She smiled at him, the delight obvious in her eyes.
“What?”
“Just you.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss over his jaw then up to his lips. “I can see the love there. And that’s why you stay.”
He sighed. “From that moment on, I was hooked. They had such amazing, raw talent. Neither one of them could stand music classes, so they were pretty much self-taught.”
She crawled up until she could curl into the pillows beside him. “And you took every class you could.” She said it matter-of-factly, as if there was no room for doubt.
“All right, smart ass.”
She poked him in the chest. “You seem like you were the class geek.”
“Do I look like a geek?”
Harper’s laugh was priceless. The same laugh from the tattoo studio when he’d first fallen under her spell. He didn’t get to hear that laugh too often, but when he did, it was pure magic. He grabbed her and pulled her under him, tickling her sides.
“Do I look like a geek?”
“No!” She twisted away from him, kicking out until he pinned her down, one hand braceleting both of her wrists over her head. “No, you’re not a geek!”
“That’s better.” He hovered over her. The worry twisting his gut easing with every puff of her breath and echoing giggle.
“What?” She wiggled, trying to get out from under him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“No reason. Just glad that you’re here.”
She stopped struggling and lowered her lashes. Just when he was going to back off, and let her go, she met his gaze again. “I’m glad I’m here, too. But we’re not having sex again. I’m freaking hungry.”
He rolled his hips against her. “You sure?”
“Put that weapon of mass destruction away there, mister.”
“It’s never been called that before.”
She snickered. “Put that dimple away too. Lethal,” she muttered and wiggled out from under him. “I’m taking a shower.” She looked over her shoulder. “Alone. You can’t be trusted.”
He grinned and watched her perfect ass disappear into his bathroom. He stretched out and rolled off the bed. He dragged on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and went out into the hall. There was a central room on the top floor where all the wings converged, but that was empty.
Jazz’s door was shut, as was Gray’s. Surprisingly, Simon’s was ajar. Deacon patted his pockets, but he’d forgotten to grab his phone. He went back to his room and flicked his iPhone to life. It was barely eight in the morning. Either Simon was still partying, or he’d never made it to bed.
There was no way he was willingly awake. Deacon padded to Nick’s side of the penthouse and found his door open as well. He peeked in and saw the bed had been slept in.
He headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Beer bottles littered the counter as well as a melted tub of Rocky Road ice cream. He scanned the room, finding more bottles and a half empty decanter of scotch. A nest of blankets lay on the L-shaped couch, but no sleeping body.
Had Snake stayed the night? Or had Jazz curled up as she normally did but found her way to bed eventually? It didn’t seem likely that she would have stayed down there with the party, but stranger things had happened.
With a sigh, he began gathering the bottles. Ten minutes later, he had the brunt of the mess cleaned up and a garbage can full of chips and ice cream that had gone stale. He nearly stepped in a seven layer dip that looked more like dog chow. He didn’t want to know why that was on the floor.
“Deacon? Is that you down there?”
“Yeah,” he called up. He turned to find Jazz at the top of the stairs in fuzzy pink socks, an oversized Foo Fighters t-shirt, and pink cotton pants with cupcakes all over them, George in her arms. Her dark hair didn’t have any of the clips of color in it like usual. Instead, it flowed in an unrelieved inky black down her shoulders and back.
Her eyes were puffy from either a sleepless night or a crying jag. The way she cuddled George close, he figured a mixture of both. Deacon opened his arms, and she flew across the room to him, rocking him back a step as she burrowed into him.
“I don’t know what to do, Deak.”
“I know. We’ll figure it out.”
She looked up at him, lashes starred with tears and not a stitch of makeup on. Not even her contacts. She looked about twelve fucking years old. How could Nick be so heartless?
He sighed and pressed his cheek to her hair. “We’ll make him see reason.”
“We shouldn’t have to.” She stepped back. “Who is he to even try to say that Snake should be back in the band?”
“The guy that started the band.”
Jazz whirled around, but took a few steps back until she butted up against Deacon. He laid a hand on her shoulder.
Nick’s gaze was even and his chin lifted, but he quickly dipped his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. “Look, about last night…”
<
br /> “Yeah?” Jazz stood as tall as her five-foot frame could get.
Simon came through the door after Nick. He had a pitch black pair of shades on his face and a large coffee in his hand. He lifted his cup. “Nick’s an asshole, and he’s sorry. Can we put it aside?” he said wearily.
“Just like that?” Deacon folded his arms over his chest.
Nick took a pack of smokes out of his pocket and flipped a cigarette between his fingers. Finally, he tucked it behind his ear. “I was stupid last night.”
“You think?”
“Aww, come on, Jazz, I was just happy to see Snake. I got a little too drunk, and the old days were too close. I started talking out of my ass.”
Deacon frowned. “That’s a quick turnaround.”
Nick scratched the back of his head. “Yeah well, after a few gallons of beer and a talk with Snake last night, we decided it was better if we go our separate ways.”
Simon slapped Nick on the back. “More like we saw the light, but Nicky isn’t going to own up to that.”
Nick wouldn’t meet Deacon’s gaze. Instead, he went into the kitchen and spun the K-cup holder until he found his preferred blend and snapped it into the Keurig. He shoved a mug under the spout and turned around. “I can’t go back to how it used to be. We can’t.”
“Really?” Jazz sniffed. She set George on one of the stools in the breakfast nook, and tucked her arms around her stomach. “Because Snake’s not up to playing?”
“No.” Nick came around the counter in front of Jazz. Nick dug his hand into her clamped down arms and shook her hands free. “No, because he’s not you. C’mon, you’re the Pink Power Ranger. You kick ass. We can’t replace you.”
Jazz wrapped her arms around Nick, and Simon came up beside them to hug the two of them.
“Such a beautiful moment,” Simon said with mock sniffles.
“Shut up.” Jazz pushed him away. “Get off me, Super Slut.”
“There we go, all is right with the world,” Simon said and set his coffee on the table. He uncapped the decanter and sloshed a hit into his coffee before putting the top on. “Now, I’m going upstairs to sleep and shower until our meeting. What time is Jackson coming again?”
“Nine,” Deacon said, massaging his biceps.
Nick shook his head. “Changed it to one.”
Deacon frowned. “Since when?”
“He called me this morning.”
Simon arched his back. “I might be human by then. Wake me up at noon if I’m not moving.”
“I’m not your fucking mother.”
Simon walked up to Deacon and tapped him on the cheek. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Deacon swung his head away and pushed Simon back. “Ass.”
Simon smirked at him. “Like I’m lying.” He climbed to the first landing and met Harper. “Well, hey there, Chef Girl.” He slid his sunglasses down. “Damn, but you do fill out a concert shirt.”
“Shut up, pig.”
His smirk was back. He lifted his cup. “Cheers and goodnight.”
Harper came down the rest of the stairs and stood beside Deacon. Her brows snapped down. “Is everything okay?”
Deacon sighed. “Looks like.”
Jazz moved around the counter to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She poured a large glass of juice. “Anyone want?”
“Yeah,” Harper looked toward Deacon then back to Jazz before moving toward her. “I’ll have some.”
Nick yawned and stretched. “I’m going to go do the same. Two hours of sleep wasn’t nearly enough.”
Deacon watched him head up the stairs. That was too fucking easy. There was no way that Nick would back off of Snake after the way he was talking last night. At least, not without a fight.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t you want your coffee, Nick?” Jazz called up the stairs.
“Oh, shit. I forgot. You drink it.”
“I don’t drink that sludge.”
“What is it?” Harper asked.
“Columbian Dark Roast.” Jazz stuck out her tongue. “Gross.”
“You drink ice cream in a cup,” Nick called down. “Just dump it if you don’t want it.”
Deacon heard Harper say she’d take it. Knowing the two women would be fine together, he took the stairs two at a time and caught up to Nick before he could shut his bedroom door. “Hey, wait a minute.”
Nick sighed. “Do we have to have a big discussion? I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t say you’re sorry to Jazz and Gray.”
“And you say you’re not our fucking mother?”
“Fuck off, Nick. Last night, you were ready to throw the two of them to the wolves, and now everything is fine?” Deacon crossed the room. “You won’t even look at me.”
Nick lifted his gaze to his. “Because I’m fucking embarrassed, all right? I wanted Snake to be our guy again, the drummer that he’d always been. He looks so good, man. Just like the guy that I started playing with in high school.”
“But he’s not.”
“No, he’s not. You called it. We hung last night, and it was like old times.”
“So what made it different, then?”
“It was almost like old times,” Nick said quietly. “He was clean, and I think he’s really going to stay clean this time. But when we started talking about the tour and the studio, he got twitchy.”
“How so?”
“He kept saying he was excited about it, but his voice got different and he kept talking about old times at the club.” Nick shoved his hands in his hair. “We aren’t doing twenty minute sets anymore, man. I want to give him a chance. I want it so bad, but I don’t think he’s got it anymore. That fire…it’s not there like it is with Jazz.” Nick looked at the floor, then pulled his cigarette down from his ear to play with again.
Deacon let out a relieved breath. He’d known that for a long time. He just didn’t think that Nick would see it so quickly. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? You saw it way before the rest of us. I wish you’d told us how bad it got.”
“Did you really want to know?”
Nick shrugged. “Maybe not.” He put the cig between his lips then quickly behind his ear. “I need a shower and my bed for a while before I can deal with a room full of suits.”
“Yeah, sure.” Deacon began to turn, then stopped. “I thought it was just Jackson.”
“Right, it is.” Nick rolled his eyes and slapped the doorjamb. “But you know that Gordo will be there, too, and he’ll be up Jackson’s ass.”
“Yeah, too true.” Deacon headed for the stairs. “All right, see you in a few hours.”
“Hey, Deak?”
He turned back to Nick. “Yeah?”
“I shouldn’t have done that last night. When I took Snake home this morning, I knew it.”
“Jazz will bounce back, and if she’s happy, Gray’s happy.”
“Yeah.” Nick slapped the jamb again then closed the door quietly.
Deacon rubbed his hands over his face. When the laughter from downstairs drifted up, he followed it down. He found a laughing Harper flipping French toast and a giggling Jazz manning a sizzling pan of bacon.
“Smells awesome.”
Harper looked up, her smile wide and bright. “Get over here, big guy. I made enough for even your appetite.”
He pushed the last of his worries down and smiled back. Breakfast with two pretty girls didn’t suck at all. He’d worry about the meeting later. “We’ll see about that now, won’t we?”
Twenty-Six
September 14, 1:00 PM - It's Your Future Calling
“Are you sure you want me to stick around? This is a band thing, isn’t it?”
“Is there somewhere you need to be?” Deacon asked as he pulled a shirt out of his closet.
Harper sat in the middle of his bed still wearing his t-shirt and boxers. They’d left so fast last night that they hadn’t stopped for a change of clothes for her. She curled
her arms around one knee. “No. I texted Meg, and she said they’ll need me tomorrow for the final big shindig, but we’re all off today.”
He pulled an iPad out of his bureau as well as a remote. “I don’t think the meeting’s going to last much more than an hour, and I have a feeling we’ll be celebrating afterward.” He handed both of them to her. “I hate leaving you up here, though.”
Harper shrugged. “I’ll keep myself busy. If you’re sure.”
He curled his arm around her back and tugged her into his arms. “I’m not giving up a moment with you.”
Her blue eyes shuttered as she looked away. “It’s going to end sometime.”
“Just a pause. We’re going to make this work.”
She looked up at him. “You’re stubborn enough to make it work.”
His chest tightened and so did his grip. “You’re damn right. No doubts already, woman.”
“I’m realistic, but I’m willing to give this a go. For real.” She lightly scraped her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck, her voice gentle. Now who was handling who?
“Be our chef.” The idea took hold. They were going to be going on the road again, sooner than later.
She laughed. “You couldn’t afford me, big guy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m never going to be a kept woman. I earn my own way.” She stepped down from the bed and out of his arms. “Don’t ruin this.”
He caught her hand. When she wouldn’t look at him, he drew her back in front of him. “I love you, Harper.”
She swung away from him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Frustration sharpened his voice, and he forced himself to back up. “I know you don’t want to hear it.”
“Then stop saying it. You don’t love me, you love the idea of me.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel. You’re the one that won’t own up to it, Lawless.” He moved in front of her again. “You feel something.”
“Of course, I feel something. You’re a sweet guy.”
He held up his hands. “Great.”
“No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Are you sure?” How many times had he been slotted into the nice guy mold? Why did that make him less? He just never thought he’d hear those words from Harper.