by Scott, S. L.
“What happens when you bring someone home?”
“Someone?” My eyebrows shoot straight up. “A girl?”
For someone who thinks so poorly of me, she sure does look hurt by the thought of me with another woman. “You think I fuck anyone who offers?” I’m not hurt by her assumption, but it does disappoint me. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I can keep my dick to myself when I’m caring for my kid.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“You know exactly what you meant, and so do I.”
“Let me ask you, Hannah, have you fucked anyone since we fucked?”
“Is that what we did?”
“I didn’t think so until now.” I catch the waitress’s eyes. That’s all I was to her. A quick fuck. Okay. Lesson learned. “Check please.”
“Jet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate—”
“What did you mean then?”
Following a long exhale, she leans forward resting her arms on the table, and whispers, “You can. You can do whatever you want. You don’t owe me anything. I was just saying if you want to have company, I’m not sure where we’ll go.”
“I won’t have company, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Regrets color her cheeks as if embarrassment has taken over. What does she have to be embarrassed about or regret? Maybe us? Probably.
“I have no right to ask anything of you. I know I’ve been hot and cold with you, but it’s not for the reasons you think. I told you I don’t want to talk about our time together—”
“When we fucked?” I’m surprised she doesn’t get whiplash from making sure no one else in the place is listening. Fuck it. I have nothing to lose. To deepen that blush that’s crawling up her chest and neck and heading north to her cheeks, I say, “I don’t remember you being so shy when you were naked in my bed.”
“When you say things like that . . .” She sighs, but I see how her chest rises and falls deeper than before. “Jet, we can’t do this—you and I—we’re not in a place where we can ever happen.” Get it together, Crow. She doesn’t want to be in this situation if the sad expression in her eyes is to be believed. God, this woman. Why does she affect me so much?
Reaching across the vinyl tabletop, I take her hand in mine, and she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she stays and her fingers curl around mine. “We’re only rivals because of some fucked-up situation we’ve found ourselves in. We spent time together in the most intimate way two people can, and you walked away. Now I know why.”
“I don’t even know why.”
“You had so much on your plate already with the pressure of holding a family together that was falling apart. I get it.”
“I know it won’t make a difference now, but I wanted to be carefree that night. I wanted to forget that Cassie was dying before my eyes and that my aunt was drinking herself into oblivion. I didn’t want to see the sadness in Alfie’s eyes anymore. I wanted to feel free from everything that night, and you did that for me.” Her hand tightens briefly around mine. “That night has meant more to me than you know. I got to be me again, even if it was just for one night.”
“I wish I would have known.”
“I wish I would have known who you were back then.”
“I’m glad you didn’t, or we wouldn’t have had that night.”
A genuine smile appears, not one filled with the pressures of a custody battle or a threat of having to move. Her smile is one that finds comfort in the company she keeps.
Unfortunately, her hand slides back to her side of the table, and we’re back to being on opposite sides again. “If I come with you and Alfie, it can only be for him, and to help you out. That’s it.”
“That’s reasonable. A little disappointing,” I say, giving her a wink, “but reasonable.”
Scooping a forkful of food, she takes a big bite, mulling the idea while she eats. I’m not sure if I should push my luck by talking or just wait her out. Silence is king, so I wait her out.
Half a glass of orange juice and a full piece of bacon later, she sets her fork down and rests her arms on the table. “I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do it?”
“Yep.”
“We didn’t even discuss salary.”
“Jet,” she starts, leaning closer. “You’ve caught me at a great time. I don’t have many options, and you’re offering me a job to do something I love, spending time with Alfie. Bonus, I’ll have my expenses covered. It may only be for a month, but it’s a month I get to spend with him. How can I say no?”
Even though I knew I was helping her out when I decided to suggest this job, selfishly, I also knew I’d get more time with her too. See how selfless she is—she could probably get a job paying more than I do, but here she is sacrificing herself for her little cousin. I kind of feel like an asshole now. Right then, I realize I have to give her the respect she deserves for giving up so much for him, and now for me. “Thank you. I appreciate it more than you know, but Alfie will be over the moon.”
The waitress approaches to refill our coffee cups. Hannah adds cream and sugar and stirs casually, her demeanor so different from earlier. “Since Cassie has passed, I need to be there for Alfie. If that means putting my life on hold to help hold his together, so be it.”
“Cassie would want you to have a life, Hannah.”
The waitress drops off the ticket and takes my card.
“I don’t matter . . . he does. He has a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
Her tone hardens like her gaze. “Nothing. Let’s just focus on the job.”
She’s done. It’s clear there’s no use trying to open something up that she’s already put the lid on. I drink my coffee, hoping to clear the lump in my throat that formed when she became upset.
I’m shadowed when the waitress returns with my card. I sign the receipt and look up and straight into the cloudy eyes of Hannah.
With her chin tilted high and the chip on her shoulder back in place, she says, “If you have a chance, let me know when you land in LA.”
I’ve been known to have a cocky side, and Hannah Nichols brings it out in me. “Why is that?”
She rolls her eyes. “Why do you make this so hard?”
“Speaking of making things hard—”
“God, you’re incorrigible, Jet Crow.”
“Jet will do.”
Another eye roll, a little more epic, is her first response as she stands up. The second is her saying, “I worry. That’s all. There. Are you satisfied?”
The way her waist dips in and her hips curve out, she affects me in ways that I’m apparently supposed to suppress. This is going to be a struggle. “Satisfied isn’t quite the word I’d choose.”
This time I see a little of the woman I met that night at the bar—the one who escaped her life and entered mine. The one I’ve left a door open and maybe my heart for as well. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself or scare her off.
Any needs I have come secondary. If she’s offering to help us, even if for a short time, I’ll back off like she wants and take what I can get.
With her hands on the table, she leans down and whispers, “So this deal means we’re in bed together once again. Speaking purely business wise.”
The waitress walks by with a pot of coffee in hand but stops to hip bump Hannah. “Stake that claim, girlfriend.”
I chuckle. Hannah doesn’t. And then she does, not able to hide her embarrassment. “She thinks we’re sleeping together.”
Popping my imaginary collar, I smirk—good and smug—just how she likes. “Nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she says, giggling. “I’m going now.” She turns to go but doesn’t leave. Turning back, she rubs my shoulder. “Safe travels.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you when I land.”
This time, she does leave. The walk is slow, but I enjoy every step she takes. “A text will do, Jet.”
“Fine. Text you later.”
&n
bsp; She waves over her shoulder, the bell above the door chiming when it’s opened. I’m about to get up, but the waitress stops back by and asks, “Are you going to let her get away?”
“Not a chance.”
14
Jet
My guitar goes everywhere I go. Even so, for some reason, I didn’t expect to play this weekend in California. I thought I’d be stuck in business meetings, working out a schedule, and finalizing our negotiations.
We did most of that, but a few too many beers, a full moon, and a chance to jam with legends led to me with a cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth while rocking acoustically around a fire pit in Ojai.
The Crow Brothers will never forget this night. Never in a million years did I think I’d be getting drunk with the members of The Resistance much less playing music with them.
Saturday night in the wee hours of the morning, my brothers, Johnny, Kaz, a guitarist, Dex, a drummer, and I are still up. Derrick, the fourth member and guitarist, went to bed with his woman a few hours ago, and Tommy’s crashed on the couch inside.
Johnny stands with his guitar slung over his shoulder and a shot of whiskey in hand. “It’s been fun, but I want to put a baby in my wife.”
Among the laughter, Dex says, “You try to put a baby in Holli while you’re drunk, and your ass is grass and sleeping under the stars.”
“She can’t resist me, except if I stay out here until the sun comes up.” He stands and points. “It comes up over that clearing if you hang out a few more hours.” He shakes our hands before adding wood to the pit. “Kaz, take care of the fire.”
“On it.”
He downs the shot and tosses the red cup in the trash. “See you tomorrow, gentlemen.”
Dex stands next. “I’m out. See you in the morning.”
When it’s Kaz, Tulsa, and Rivers left around the pit with me, Kaz says, “We stay out here sometimes when we’re writing songs or recording.” Kicking his feet up on the low rustic rock wall, he looks up at the stars. “Johnny’s studio is outfitted with the best production equipment in LA. Plus, it’s quiet out here, away from the paparazzi and fans. The privacy gives us a bit of peace.” Turning to me, he says, “You’ll like it out here. Anyway, it’s easier than making the drive back to LA, especially if we’ve been drinking.”
Tulsa asks, “What about women?”
Twisting a bottle cap between his fingers, Kaz flicks it into the fire. “No single women around here.”
I ask, “What’s your story?”
“Happy. Lara’s career has taken off, so she’s busy. My schedule isn’t too bad when I’m home. If we’re recording or on tour, it’s tougher, but she flies out or I’ll fly home if we have a day or two off. Any of you hooked up already?”
Laughing, Tulsa replies, “I’ve got a phone full of special someones.” Squeezing Rivers’s shoulder, he knocks him a bit. “What about you, Riv? Where you been sneaking off to so much lately?”
“I haven’t been sneaking anywhere.” He looks down, messing with a blade of grass. Rivers is the quietest Crow Bro. He opens up slower, not like Tulsa who is wide open for the world to know all his business.
Rivers is honest and can’t seem to lie to save his life or protect his privacy, so I ask him directly, “Are you seeing anyone on the regular?”
“There might be someone.”
That sends the guys to howl over the juicy information. “I knew it, fucker,” Tulsa says and then downs his beer.
Rivers says, “I’m not telling you assholes anything more, so you might as well move the conversation along to Jet and Hannah.”
My body stills when I hear her name, my heart beating a little harder.
Kaz shows interest and sits up. “What’s the story with Hannah?”
“Fucker,” I mumble under my breath to Rivers while shaking my head. Hannah is always in the corner of my mind, hiding in the recesses and coming into the light when I’m alone with too much time to think.
She keeps me in the loop with anything to do with Alfie and makes sure he’s available to talk at eleven each day and again at six forty-five for me to say good night. He loves his time with her, but he’s vocal about missing me. I miss him too. But if I’m not with him, having them together gives me a weird sense of peace and comfort.
“She helps me with my son, watching him while I’m gone.”
Kaz doesn’t know the history, though it’s a short one, involving Alfie and Hannah. I’m not sure it’s wise to get into it either since I’ve been drinking. Liquor lowers my walls, and it becomes hard to keep my inner thoughts out of the story. It’s like a bad editorial that will make me sound like an idiot.
Tulsa laughs. “He likes her.”
“I don’t like her. Just because she’s good with my kid, thoughtful, and gorgeous . . .” The flames of the fire flicker, fueling my feelings. “Has the clearest blue eyes or the cloudiest grays, lips that I turned from pink to red and swollen.” I close my eyes as a million little stolen moments with her feel real once again. She has this tattoo on her right side, near the top of her ribs. It’s not visible to anyone unless she’s naked and twisted around your body, but damn, it felt like I had conquered new land when I discovered that tiny lotus flower. She made me feel new too. “The way she looks at me like I can do no wrong when all I do is fuck up—”
Opening my eyes I find three pairs staring back at me. No one is laughing. There are no side conversations. Shit. “What?”
Kaz is on his feet and shoveling dirt on the fire. “Nothing, man,” he replies, chuckling a bit. “I’m going to bed.” He moves around the pit and tosses his can in the trash bin nearby. Before he leaves, he says, “I’m no expert on women, but deep down, I knew when it was right even before I admitted it to myself. Sounds like Hannah might be as good for you as she is for your son. Just my two cents. Night.”
Rivers is the first to stand. “C’mon, brothers. Let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be busier than they’ve let on. We dealt with the business side of things this morning. Tonight was about getting to know us. Tomorrow, we show them who we are as a band.”
Just past the pool, the guesthouse on the property is about three times larger than my house. Made of stone and custom woodwork that Johnny helped not only design but also build in his free time. He told me earlier in the day to find a hobby that takes my mind off the job.
My hobby has always been music.
“Music is a passion that business will destroy if you let it. Protect it,” he said. “Find some other way to release the aggression, so when you’re playing your guitar or writing a new song, your head is clear of the shit storm.”
I’ll hold onto any advice from him. With the hell he’s been through and the price he’s paid to find his place not just in music but in his own life, he knows what he’s talking about.
Tulsa talks Rivers into a game of pool in the living room. My head is swimming after all the drinking, so I make my way upstairs to the bedroom where I dropped my bag earlier. After setting my guitar back in its case, I pull my phone from my pocket, letting liquid courage control my fingers instead of my mind, and text Hannah: I know you’re not awake, but I was thinking about you.
A text buzzes back, bringing a smug ass smile to my face. It reads: Was?
I’m quick to reply: Am.
She replies: Why are you thinking about me?
Me: How are you?
Hannah: Alfie’s fine, if that’s what you’re asking.
Me: I’m not. I know he’s in good hands when he’s with you. I was asking about you.
I don’t like the long pause. She was fast in replying and now nothing. I crossed a line. Fuck whiskey. It really makes me do stupid shi—my phone lights up with a response: I’m fine. You?
Me: Drunk.
Hannah: You should probably go to bed before you say something you’ll regret.
Me: I’ll just add it to the tally.
Hannah: I have a few of my own to reckon with.
Hannah: Maybe one day I’ll show you.
Me: I like the sound of that.
Hannah: I have to get up soon. You should go to bed.
Me: I should, but I don’t want to. Let’s talk until the sun comes up. I heard it would be soon.
Hannah. LOL. You are drunk. I’m going back to bed.
Me: Wish I was there.
Hannah: That’s what I was talking about. Go to bed.
I meant my bed and being with Alfie and hanging out with Hannah, but I don’t correct her. She’s right as well, so I type: Good night, Hannah.
Hannah: Good night, Jet.
I drop the phone next to me on the mattress and close my eyes; memories of her bare before me come easy when I let my mind drift. More than her skin was exposed that night. Her mind and heart were wide open for me.
The needle of the record player had been skipping at the end of the album long enough for the sound to create a calming lullaby. I thought she was asleep when I got out of bed to smoke, but she rolled over to face me, that sadness in her eyes from earlier back and permeating the room.
“Why are you so sad?” I asked, truly wanting to know her deepest thoughts, thoughts I had no right to hear.
She smiled. God, how I loved seeing that smile. “You can’t fix it, so it doesn’t matter.”
Since we left the bar, my heart had been beating in ways I tried to hide, ways that were loud in my ears and heavy in my chest. I haven’t known her long enough to share feelings attaching too fast. “It matters to me.”
“If I told you, Jet, you’d be sad too. I like how you are.”
“How am I?”
She climbed out of bed, and her hair was messy. The black that rimmed her eyes had spread beneath her lower lids and her body naked. Fucking breathtaking.
She came to me while I was smoking by the window and held out two fingers, a silent request for the cigarette. “The overcast I need, and the storm I crave.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Worse,” she replied, her gaze turning down.