Losing Control (3 page)

Jagger stood behind the small brick building that housed
Wet Wanda’s
, smoking a cigarette. Usually, he liked to be inside the club, feeling the vibe of the crowd, but tonight he craved his own company. He still felt bad about what had transpired between him and Bianca that afternoon. Even though he’d managed to get a dinner once a week out of it, it still left a bad taste in his mouth that she refused help.

“Crowd’s gettin’ crazy in there. You need to hit the stage soon.”

He glanced up, noticing that Wanda herself had come out to greet him. His breath showed bright white in the night air as he exhaled deeply. “I’ll be in there in a few minutes,” he promised as he took the last drag off his cigarette.

His shoulders squared, he walked in and grabbed his guitar out of its case. Normally his show was rowdy, and it couldn’t be described as either rock or country. Tonight though he felt melancholy and wanted to project that to everyone who had come to see him. For some reason, he wanted to show a different side of the man they all thought they knew. Sitting down, he put his guitar across his knee and worked on warming up his fingers and voice before he hit the main stage.

He played the familiar chords to a song he’d written a few years before and softly sang the words, welcoming the feeling that came over his body. This was where he felt at home, when he had the weight of a guitar in his hands and on his knee. The back of a motorcycle was his freedom, but the stage was his salvation. Eyes closed, he continued with his warm-up until his hair prickled, and he knew that Bianca watched him.

Opening his eyes, he grinned at her, continuing to strum, making up a little song about her spying on him.

She couldn’t help the giggle that came up from deep in her belly or the blush that spread across her cheeks. “You’re silly.”

“Wow, you do have a sense of humor.”

“Every once in a while, so enjoy it while you got it.” She gave him her back, her hair flying towards him.

He caught the scent of raspberry vanilla shampoo and almost salivated. Everything about this woman drove him crazy. “You stayin’ for my show?” he asked.

“I’m workin’, so I’ll be here.”

“But will you be watching?” he asked, his fingers poised on the chords of the guitar, waiting to see what she would say.

She turned, her eyes twinkling. He loved it when he could see a bit of life there. When she was having fun. When for just a few moments she seemed to forget how serious she was supposed to be. “Maybe.”

Two hours later his melancholy had all but lifted as he listened to the roar of the crowd. They were chanting his name as he went off stage. He loved this little bar, it made him feel like a rock star every time he played here. People always told him he should try to get a record deal, but he loved the indie feel of what he was doing. He loved that he played the music he loved the way he loved, and no one could tell him what to do.

“Y’all have a good night!”

He threw his guitar pick over to the section that housed his club, making sure one of the women caught it. Many of the women who hung around the club now hung around for him, he wasn’t oblivious to it. He played into it because that’s what they expected, but he didn’t really enjoy it. Walking to the back, behind the stage, he grabbed a towel that someone had laid out for him. Taking off his cut, he ran the towel along his arms and the back of his neck before running it over his mop of dirty blond hair.

“You did a really good job out there.”

Her voice was the last he had expected to hear. “Wow, not only do you have a sense of humor, but you can give a compliment too. This must be my lucky day.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

“So, since you’re here, I figured maybe we could go ahead and make our dinner date.”

She had hoped he would give her a little while to get used to the idea, but it was also just like him to strike while the iron was hot. “Okay, I’m off work on Wednesday. Every other day I either work or I have class. That’s the best I can do.”

“I can work with that. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Uh, not so fast. It’s cold, and I’m not riding your bike. I’ll drive myself, that way I can leave when I want to.”

There was that bite of attitude that he loved so much. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. How about you come and pick me up?”

That was different. No other man had ever run so easily with her mood swings. “You’re just hoping to drive my car.”

“You’ll never know unless you come pick me up,” he teased.

“Don’t get used to all of this. I’m only being agreeable because I owe you money.”

With that, she left, leaving him staring after her. That last sentiment was the one thing he desperately needed to change. He wanted her to be agreeable all the time.

Chapter Four

“A
re you tryin’ to look good for your date?”

Jagger’s eyes met Tyler’s in his mirror as he ran his hands through his hair and then scrubbed at the scruff on his face.

“So what if I am? There’s nothing wrong with good hygiene.”

Tyler had a seat on the bed and faced the young man he had taken under his wing. Since the whole “curse of the skull” fiasco, he felt like they were friends. “I’m taking your place on the ride tonight, right?”

“That’s right, and I didn’t get a chance to thank you, so thanks. I’ll take your ride Friday if you want me to,” Jagger offered as he smoothed his hands down his shirt and then put his cut on over it.

“That’s exactly what I was coming here to ask you. The wifey and I are going to the house for the weekend.” He wagged his eyebrows up and down in a suggestive motion.

“You crack me up when you say that. She doesn’t wear a ring on her finger.”

Tyler got up from the bed and leveled him with a look. “Doesn’t mean she ain’t my wife.”

“Where are we going?” Bianca asked from the passenger side of her Mustang as she saw him take the interstate south. Somehow as soon as she’d arrived to pick him up, he had sweet-talked his way into driving.

“To have some dinner,” he answered evasively.

When he had mentioned dinner, she had assumed it would be in Bowling Green. “Are you taking me to Nashville?”

“Yeah, there’s a good little barbecue place down there. Its biker friendly, and they also have seafood. I figured both of us could find something we like there.”

He seemed so excited about showing her a place different than what they had in Bowling Green that it was hard to be mad at him for spending money on her again. His excitement fed her own and it was hard to remind herself that she wasn’t a willing participant in this date. The spending money on her felt so much like he was supporting her that it killed her conscience. Instead of focusing on the fact he’d taken her out of her comfort zone, she made a decision just to enjoy their time together.

The radio played in the background and it surprised her that he had tuned it into the hard rock station out of Nashville. “I figured you’d want to listen to country.”

“Just because I tend to play country doesn’t mean that’s all I like. I’m not one of those people who are just black or white. There’s a lot of gray to me too. I’m neutral on a lot of things.”

For the first time since they had gotten into the car, she let her guard down. “So tell me something about yourself.”

That question knocked him for a loop. Never in any of their conversations did she give the indication that she might be interested in anything about his life. “I joined a motorcycle club because my family hates them.”

She busted out laughing, holding her stomach. “What? Seriously?”

“You mind if I smoke in here?”

She shook her head and watched as he dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a new pack of cigarettes. It was almost intimate to watch him grab the wheel with his knees and use his hands to pound on the hard box that encased the cigarettes. When he’d beaten the top of the case to his satisfaction, he flipped the lid open and pulled one out.

“You got a lighter?” he asked as he held the stick of tobacco between his lips.

Leaning forward, she pressed the one on the console and waited patiently for it to pop back out. Once it did, she leaned towards him, carefully handing him the orange glowing circle. He grabbed it from her and put it up to his cigarette, inhaling until the tip caught fire. He took a drag and blew smoke towards the window he’d cracked.

“Thanks,” he smiled over at her.

“Not a problem. Now please explain to me what the fuck you mean about your family hating motorcycle clubs.”

He visibly shook his shoulders, almost like he wanted to relax just a little bit before he went into the story.

“My parents are what some would classify as ‘crazy’ Christians. They are Bible-thumpers of the worst kind.”

“Hypocrites?” she asked.

“Like you would not believe. The day I turned eighteen I was outta that house so fast I left tread marks on the carpet.”

For what felt like the first time, she took a good look at him. His sandy blond hair was a mop on his head – not unkept, just unruly. The scruff at his chin wasn’t a full beard, but a little bit long. Her gaze ran down to his body. Tonight he wore a short sleeve shirt, and it gave her the option of checking out the ink he had on both arms.

“Do you have full sleeves?”

“Yeah. I figured that could be my first rebellion, and then I got to where I liked it.”

“I don’t have a tattoo, but I’ve always wanted one.”

He smiled wide, showing the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. “Once you get one, you’ll want a ton.”

“Are you done?”

“I’ve got two full sleeves and a back piece. I think so. There’s really nothing else that I want. Maybe if I got married I’d put my wife’s name on me somewhere. Definitely if I have kids I’d honor them that way, but for right now…I’m pretty sure I’m done.”

“Hmm.”

“What the fuck does that mean? Hmm?” Jagger regarded her with a disbelieving look on his face. “What the hell?”

“I just think that says a lot about you. Maybe you’re much more old-fashioned than you thought. Wanting to tie yourself to a woman like that forever? That’s pretty deep. I never even thought you’d be the marriage type.”