Diving Into Him (9 page)

The crowd cheered in response. Despite the small size of the place, it was packed full. Jett suspected that most of the people there were regulars. Some of them had probably expected Perpetual Smile, but most of the people staring up at her did not seem to recognize her.

The bass of the first song they had written swooped through the bar. A chill ran down Jett’s spine, goosebumps popping up along her skin. Lips curling into a smile, she tipped her head back. The piano washed over her. Shaking her hair, she launched into “Sex on the T.”

Time sped up, the music carrying her through. Before she knew it, their set was over. The audience screamed, cheering, their clapping reverberating off the walls.

“Thank you!” She took a bow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the guys bow as well.

The clapping continued. People who had been sitting slid off of their bar stools and chanted for an encore.

Eyes dancing, Jett raised the microphone to her lips. “You’ve got it,” she told her audience. Turning, she nodded to Griff. Riding the high, she closed her eyes and swam through the song. Throat vibrating, diaphragm rising and falling with each breath and note, she let herself be carried away. When the song ended, she opened her eyes. The audience stared back at her, eyes wide. Her breath caught in her throat. They erupted into applause, whistles and cheers bouncing off the concrete walls. She beamed and took another bow.

Straightening, she brought the microphone to her lips. “We are South of Forever. Check us out at southofforever.com. Thank you!” Bowing a final time, she signaled to Max. He turned to the switchboard and turned the bar’s regular music back on. The applause died. For a moment, the crowd watched her. Then, as the band began breaking everything down, the audience returned to their banter and drinking.

Triumph vibrated through Jett. Her lips twitched into a smile. She turned around and gave her men a thumbs up.

“It’s time for that drink,” Perry purred.

Too elated to tell him that he needed to help break things down first, Jett just smiled back at him.

“Wait,” Griff said. He motioned for the band to huddle up.

“What’s going on?” Jett lifted an eyebrow at him.

Griff held up a hand. “Don’t look, but the guy sitting at the bar wearing the denim jacket is our guy.”

Jett’s eyes widened. She tried to see the bar out of the corner of her eye, but couldn’t. “Is he going to come over here?” She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. 

“It looks like he’s texting someone right now,” Griff said. “Or he’s playing Candy Crush Saga.”

She swatted at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Whalen. What is he doing right now?”

Griff straightened. “He’s coming over here.”

Wiping the palms of her hands on her jeans, Jett turned around. A short man wearing a denim jacket hopped up onto the stage. He wore his shoulder-length black hair in a low ponytail. Pocketing his phone, he held his hand out to Griff.

“This is Anthony Ballard,” Griff said, addressing the band. “Thanks for coming out, man.”

Anthony nodded. He handed Jett a business card. “That’s my cell phone,” he said.

She tucked the card into the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.

He clasped it. His grip was firm and warm. “You put on a nice show.” Anthony regarded all of them. Crows feet etched the edges of his eyes. Jett pegged him for late forties, maybe early fifties. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Perry drawled. He slung an arm over the shorter man’s shoulder.

Jett gaped at him. Her hands curled into fists. Inviting Perry into the band, as it turned out, had been a bad idea. Aside from his experience and skill, he was nothing but trouble. She opened her mouth to tell him off.

Anthony laughed, though. “Do you guys like Chinese? There’s a great place not far from here.”

Relief swept through Jett. Still, she shot Perry a look. He lowered his arm and tossed his dreads over his shoulder. She looked back at the agent. “Do you mind if we break down real quick?”

“Take your time.” Anthony jerked a thumb toward the door. “I have a couple of phone calls to make, anyway. I’ll be out front in a black Benz.” He hopped down from the stage, holding a hand up in parting.

As he slipped out of the bar, Jett turned toward her men. “Let’s pack up quickly. I don’t want him to change his mind.” She pointed a finger at Perry. “Double time it, Armstrong.”

For the first time in weeks, Perry didn’t complain. He bent down and began peeling the duct tape from the stage. Jett turned and began taking apart her microphone stand.

Her hands shook as she fumbled to take it apart. Her nerves felt like rubber. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she closed her eyes. All she needed to do was have dinner with the booking agent. The hard part of the night was over. She opened her eyes. Max stood in front of her. He stifled a yawn. The bags under his eyes looked deeper than they had the day before. She gave him a gentle smile. “If you want to call it a night, I won’t hold it against you,” she told him.

He shook his head. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he shifted from foot to foot. “It’s not that.” He looked down at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” She ran a hand through her hair. They didn’t have time for intimate, heart to heart moments. She was sure that Anthony Ballard had plenty of things to do and didn’t intend to wait for her band all night. He could easily zip across town and hook up with another band. Still, she forced her face to remain neutral, if not patient.

“I was just wondering,” Max said, looking up at her from underneath his lashes, “if we were going to get paid tonight.”

Jett’s jaw dropped open. She had completely forgotten about paying her men. Recovering quickly, she busied her hands with packing up her microphone. “I’ll pay you guys as soon as I can,” she promised.

Max nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that money is tight. This is kind of my only shot right now.”

Guilt twisted her stomach. “I’m in the same position,” she said. If she couldn’t make the band profitable, she was going to have to wait tables at a dirty hole in the wall or something equally degrading. With no college degree or any other experience, South of Forever was all she had. As she began bundling up an extension cord, though, she realized that she wasn’t quite in the same position. At the moment, Koty paid for all of their bills out of his savings. Thanks to his stint in ESX, he wouldn’t have to worry about running out of money any time soon. She didn’t want Koty to think that she was a gold digger, though. The last thing she wanted was his money.

Stomach roiling, she glanced around for the bottle of ginger ale. It sat, empty, on top of an amplifier. She gritted her teeth against the nausea burning through her nerves.

The second that they finished packing up, Jett led her men outside. They shoved everything into Griff’s rental and Max’s beat up car, then piled in. Moving in a pack, they turned around in the parking lot and lined up behind Anthony Ballard’s Benz. Griff gave the booking agent a thumbs up out of the driver’s side window. The Benz eased forward into the street, and Griff followed.

Jett twisted the ring on her thumb, chewing the inside of her lip. 

They followed Anthony Ballard to a brightly lit Chinese restaurant with a sign that proclaimed gourmet Asian cuisine. Surprised that it was open so late, Jett climbed out of the car. She shivered against the drop in temperature. Boston weather men were predicting snow later in the week. If it snowed again, she decided, she was not leaving her house until it thawed. Winter needed to be over. Leave it to New England to skip spring completely.

She traipsed inside behind Griff in silence, Koty and the others following her. She wished that she could have huddled them up, but it would have looked weird if they remained in the parking lot while Anthony went inside to get their table. A hostess with long, inky hair greeted them and led them to a large booth.

Perry slid in first, his dreads swaying. “Do you have any appetizers?” he asked the hostess. “Or can I start with you?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Someone will be right with you,” she said, handing him a menu. She turned and hurried away.

Jett slapped her forehead with the heel of her hand. If she survived the night, she was going to murder Perry. She sat down next to Griff. Koty slid in beside her. His arm brushed hers. Heat spread across her cheeks.

Anthony Ballard sat on the opposite side, on the edge. Max sat in the middle. The youngest member of her band rubbed at his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Jett wondered if she should have just sent him home. As exhausted as he was, he wasn’t going to be able to pitch himself properly, anyway.

“I wonder if they serve coffee,” she said to Griff.

“This is my treat, by the way,” Anthony said. He folded his hands on the table. “I always prefer to talk business before we order, that way we can just enjoy the food. Is everyone okay with that?”

Jett glanced from face to face. None of them seemed opposed. Then again, Max was too tired to argue, and Perry was too busy ogling the waitresses who bustled back and forth. She took a deep breath. “Did Griff tell you that we already have experience in the music industry?” She decided to leave out the fact that the extent of Max’s experience was in a classroom in a university. Four out of the five of them had real experience. That had to count for something. Besides, if Anthony Ballard couldn’t see how talented Max was after he had multitasked playing piano and manning the switchboard all night, then the man was clearly blind. Jett felt pride thrum through her. She was glad that she had given Max a chance—even if he looked like he was going to pass out at the table.

Anthony Ballard nodded. “I did some research during my flight.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “You all have impressive backgrounds.” He gave her a smile. “Listen, I’m going to keep this short and sweet. I have a flight to catch, and you all look like you could use a good ten hours.”

Jett’s heart rocketed to the bottom of her stomach. Her shoulders slumped. She smiled in an attempt to hide her disappointment. “I hope we’re not keeping you,” she said.

The agent shook his head. “Not at all.” His gaze was steady. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look harried or annoyed, either. “I was very impressed with you all tonight. I could go on and on about the way you all played and the way you, Miss Costa, worked the crowd. I’d be wasting all of our time, though.”

Leaning forward in her seat, Jett felt her heart racing in her chest. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, her pulse pounding in her throat and wrists. She gave him a nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I would like to represent South of Forever,” Anthony Ballard said.

Jett sat up straight. Tears moistened her eyes. She grinned. “Really?”

“There are some things I need to take care of. I work with a couple of other guys in an agency.” The booking agent nodded toward Jett. “You’ll see their names on my card, too, but that’s my cell phone—I promise.”

A waitress with a pixie cut bounced over to them. “All set to order?” she asked.

“I didn’t even get to look at the menu,” Perry grumbled.

“Perry,” Jett said, eyeing him. “We’re doing business.” She turned toward the waitress, lips parted, prepared to ask her to come back in a few minutes.

“We’re all set here,” Anthony Ballard said. “I’ll be in touch soon to work out the details. Right now, let’s eat.” He opened his menu.

Jett blinked. She wasn’t sure if she could believe what had just happened.

Koty nudged her gently with his elbow. “Now we
need
to celebrate,” he whispered to her.

Her heart slammed in her chest. She wondered what he meant.

Jett clutched her stomach as she walked toward Griff’s car in the restaurant parking lot, limping slightly. Between all of the crab rangoon she stuffed herself with and all of the jumping around she had done on stage, all she wanted to do was go home and soak in a tub of hot water. Maybe, she mused as she reached the car, she would put a movie on her laptop while she soaked. If she balanced it on the toilet seat, she would be able to watch something without risking electrocution.

“Let’s go back to the bar,” Perry said.

She turned to see Perry, Griff, and Max sashaying toward her, their arms slung over each other’s shoulders. The three of them had drank enough sake to knock out an elephant. Anthony Ballard had done shots with them, throwing the entire bill on his agency’s credit card. Jett was used to people in suits throwing money at her and treating her. She was not used to making excuses to drink water instead of alcohol.

The men whooped in agreement.

“Karaoke!” Max punched his fists into the air.

“It’s too bad the bar doesn’t serve sake,” Perry purred. “That stuff is amazing.”

Jett looked down at her boots. Rice wine had been one of her favorites, ever since she played beer pong with it at a friend’s house as a teenager.

Griff sauntered around to the driver’s side.

“Whoa,” she said, limping over to intercept him. “Give me those keys.”

He cocked his head at her. “For what?”

She held out her hand. “You’re rocked. Gimme.”

Smirking, Griff plunked the keys into her hand. He staggered around to the passenger side.

“Where’s your hotel?” she asked as she slid in.

Griff snorted. “I’m not going there yet. We’re going to the bar.”

“No,
we’re
not. I’m dropping you off and I’m going to take enough Tylenol PM to knock me into next Tuesday.” She started the car. It purred beneath her feet.

The door to the back seat opened. Koty climbed in. “No one’s going home,” he said. Max and Perry slid in behind him.

Twisting in her seat, Jett swatted at them. “No way. Get in Max’s car and take them home.” She threw Koty a dirty look.

Max gripped the head rest of her seat. “We’ve got to celebrate.” He slurred, leaning so far over that he was nearly in the front.

Jett shook her head. Massaging her temples, she inhaled slowly through her nose. The car vibrated beneath her, heat pouring out of its vents and warming her skin. Her shoulders ached. She could almost smell the scent of her lavender candles. That bath was going to be the best of her life. She lifted her chin. “Knock yourselves out. I’m going home.” She jerked a thumb toward Max’s car. “Drive yourselves.”

Koty leaned into the front. “When was the last time you just had fun?”

“Seriously,” Griff said. “Hanging out for karaoke for a couple of hours won’t kill you, Jett.” He grinned at her in the dim light from the street.

Jett closed her eyes. Perry and Max still had no idea about her history. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. It was almost as if Griff and Koty were using her own pride against her to get her to go. They knew that she wouldn’t want the others to know. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the time on the dashboard. The bars would be closing in less than two hours. It probably wouldn’t hurt her to go with them, but she wasn’t sure how much fun she could have without drinking. She rolled her eyes, glad that the men in the back seat couldn’t see. “Fine.” She put the car in reverse.

“Cool,” Koty said. He sat back. His cologne teased her nostrils. It was probably a good thing that they were all going out, she decided as she maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. Being alone with him, high on a great performance and their possible deal with an agent, would only get her into trouble.

She parked across the street from the bar and shut off the engine. Lighting a cigarette, she rolled down her window. “I’ll meet you guys inside.”

Perry and Max practically tumbled out of the car. “I’m going to show you how to do an Irish car bomb,” she heard Perry say to Max as they walked toward the building. She smiled to herself, glad that they were finally getting along—even if it was only because they were properly lubricated.

“See you inside,” Koty said. He shut the door and walked away.

Shaking her head, Jett smoked, glad for the solitude. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, leaning against the head rest. Her mind swam with the events of the night and the past week. With their show out of the way, she could focus on figuring out how to pay the men—and how to stop having sex with Koty.

“I know you’re tired,” Griff said.

She jumped, her head nearly hitting the roof of the car. She dropped her cigarette onto the floor. Eyes widening, she fumbled for it in the dark. The cherry burned her hand. She swore. Closing her fingers around the filter, she plucked it from the floor and tossed it out of the window.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Griff slurred.

She snorted, twisting in her seat to face him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Frowning, she cocked her head. “For what?” She couldn’t remember him ever apologizing for being drunk. Maybe he felt bad, given her history. She gave him a nonchalant smile. “Aren’t you having fun?”

“I ditched you when things were going bad.” He sighed. “I was a shitty friend.”

Her lips formed an O. “Ah, you’re feeling guilty about Perpetual Smile.” She nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. Tears pricked at her eyes despite her casual facade. She had never stopped wondering why he had let Koty pick her up from the rehab center without so much as a text to let her know. When Simon 1056 dropped Perpetual Smile, she had found out from Koty rather than any of the men who had been in the band since she and Phillip started it. Even though it was in the past, it still stung.

“I want you to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to regain your trust,” Griff said. “We were so close when we were in the band. I messed up.”

Even though she suspected that it was the alcohol talking, she nodded. “Apology accepted.” She smiled in the dark. It felt good to be friends with him again. In time, it would probably be as if nothing ever happened. At least one relationship in her life could be simple.

Opening his door, Griff tumbled out of the car. Jett covered her smile with her hand.

“You all right?” she asked, getting out on her side.

He sprang to his feet. Holding his arms up, he gave her thumbs. Then he lurched toward the bar.

Shaking her head, she followed him inside.

The entire vibe of the bar felt different. Without being able to drink or having a show to set up for, she stood in the doorway, blinking against the dim lighting. She wasn’t sure whether she should head straight to the bar and order a soda, or pretend to enjoy dancing to other people singing. Old license plates and other memorabilia decorated the walls. Upholding the establishment’s name were frogs collected over the years. Some leaned against each other on shelves. Dark wood lined the interior.

People sat on bar stools and stood in groups on the floor, holding drinks in their hands while they waited for their turn to sing on stage. She thought it was strange that the owner of the bar had scheduled karaoke for right after a live band. Maybe he had figured, since he wasn’t getting Perpetual Smile, he ought to play it safe. Griff had dealt with him, though, and taken care of all of the preparations. Jett didn’t think the owner was even around.

Making her way to the bar, she remembered hundreds of times that she had made a similar trek. She had ordered vodka collinses and whiskeys with cola. She stepped up to the counter and hopped up onto an empty stool.

“Soda?” Koty asked. She turned to see him sitting next to her.

“You’re everywhere.” She lifted a shoulder. “I was just going to get a water.”

He sipped dark liquid through a straw. “Soda tastes better, especially when they add grenadine.” He gave her a smile with dimples. Her skin tingled.

“Okay,” she said. “Soda, then.”

The bartender sauntered over to them, adjusting her ponytail. She gave Koty big, bright blue eyes. He ordered two ginger ales with grenadine, and she poured while those eyes burned into him. When she turned her back to tender his cash, Jett smirked.

“I think she wants your dick.” She smiled, but jealousy burned through her. As much as it would be a relief if Koty started dating someone else, she almost wanted to keep him all to herself. Women, she decided, were complicated creatures. At least, she was.

Koty shook his head. “No thanks.” He winked at Jett. “I’m not available.”

Cheeks blazing, Jett sipped her Shirley Temple through a straw, painting the plastic with red lipstick. Even though it couldn’t possibly work that quickly, her nerves settled a little.

He slid down from his bar stool. “I’m gonna go put a song in. Do you want to sing?”

She shook her head. Patting her throat, she nodded at him to go on without her.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and wandered toward a table piled with the karaoke books.

Turning back to the bar, Jett dragged her eyes up to the screen. There were no fights on, so the channel was currently plugged to CNN. Holding her glass with both hands, she sipped the carbonated beverage. It felt cool against her throat, bubbles fizzing in her mouth. The sugar would probably give her a headache, but would probably give her a rush, long enough to stay awake. Apparently she was playing designated driver. She sipped again, slurping cold water.

Glancing down, she frowned at her glass—empty except for the chunks of ice at the bottom. Without any cash and with Koty all the way across the bar, she was out of luck. She signaled to the bartender. An ice cold water would at least give her something to drink, keeping her mind off of what she couldn’t have.

“Hi,” an unfamiliar male voice buzzed.

She twisted in her seat, lips curling as she prepared to tell him to go hunt somewhere else. Her eyes fell on a mop of wild bed hair, strands standing almost straight up. Bluish green eyes gazed back at her. He wiggled his fingers in greeting. Her mouth twitched, the sarcastic comment dying on her lips.

“Is anyone sitting here?” He nodded to the empty stool next to her.

She blinked at him. Stubble lined his face. Underneath the shadow of his messy hair, he had olive skin and a straight nose. When he spoke, full lips moved. She cleared her throat. “Nope.” Turning back to the bar, she tried to catch the bartender’s eye.

“What are you getting?” The stranger hopped up onto the bar stool.

Jett lifted a hand. “Just a water, thanks.”

The young woman tending bar finally bounced to their end. She lifted an eyebrow at Jett.

“How about another one of whatever you have there?” the man sitting next to her asked. He nodded to her empty glass.

Jett wrapped her fingers around it, still cold from the ice. “It’s just a ginger ale with grenadine.” It was the most cliche non-alcoholic drink, but she didn’t care. Her father used to make them for her when she was small, and it was more of a comfort than anything else.

The bartender put her hands on her hips, swinging her ponytail to the side. “Ready to order yet?” She gave Jett a dirty look, her bright blue eyes landing on the man next to her.

Jett rolled her eyes. “You know what? Forget it.” She grabbed her jacket and turned, aiming her boots toward the floor.

The man next to her touched her arm. Jett raised her eyes to his, her gaze hardening. He addressed the bartender. “She’ll have another Shirley Temple,” he said, “and I will, too.”

The bartender scowled but turned to fill the order.

“I’m all set, really.” Jett yanked her jacket on. She glanced at the door, skin teeming with anxiety.

“But we’ve only just met.” He smiled, and his eyes crinkled.

Despite her irritation, she found herself smiling back. “Yeah, well, you’re barking up the wrong tree, honey.”

“It’s Tyler,” he said, holding out his hand.

She laughed, but shook with him. His skin tingled with warmth against hers. “Jett.”

His grin widened. “Like Joan Jett?”

She lifted her shoulders. “My dad was a little obsessed.”

“Was, or still is?” Tyler asked.

The bartender plunked down their glasses. He passed one to her. “Still is. He runs a bakery, but he loves his rock and roll.” She took a sip of soda. Just the action of wrapping her lips around the straw soothed her. Maybe, she surmised, smoking really was just an oral fixation.

“That’s cool. My dad just liked the name Tyler.” He nodded toward the karaoke line. “Are you going to sing?”

She shook her head. “I don’t work for free.” She sipped her soda, eyes gauging his reaction.

“I wish I could be that ballsy.” He raised his glass to hers. “I’m basically whoring myself out around here.”

She squinted at him. “Are you a musician, too?” He didn’t
look
like one. None of the guys she had ever jammed with wore blue and brown plaid.

Tyler laughed. “God, no. I’m instrumentally challenged.”

Lips parting, she chuckled. “I figured.” Tapping her chin with the pad of her finger, she eyed him. “Let me guess.”

He combed through his hair with his fingers, shoulders wiggling. “This is nerve-wracking.”

“Why, are you afraid I’m going to guess right?” She giggled. “I bet it’s a really lame job.”

He tilted his head, eyes averting to the side and up. “Not lame, but definitely not smart.”

“So you’re not a student.” She put her soda down. Plucking his glass from his fingers, she set his down on the bar next to hers. “Let me see those hands.” He held them out. She studied the palms of his hands, the cuticles around his fingers.

“Are you reading my fortune?” His blue eyes sparkled.

Jett tapped the center of his hand with her fingernail. “You’re not in any kind of manual labor. You don’t look like the sales-y type, either.” She waved his hands away. “You’re not out of shape, but you’re not ripped.”

“Ouch,” he said, crossing his arms. “Lucky that I’m not trying to pick you up, because it looks like I’m striking out.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it.” She slid down from her stool. “I’m ready to guess.” She headed toward the door.