Running with Scissors (23 page)

“Connor, for fuck’s sake—”

Right then, Shiloh stepped out of the studio and closed

the door behind her, cutting off most of the shouting. She

exhaled hard, and rolled her eyes.

“Sounds like the day’s off to a good start.”

She jumped as she turned to him. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned. “They’ve been at

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it for the last hour. Somehow I don’t think Connor will be

rehearsing much today.”

A.J. scowled. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, who knows?” She rubbed her temples. “He was okay

earlier, but the minute Jude walked in . . .”

His blood turned cold. “What? Why?”

“Why?” Shiloh laughed. “Honey, you’ve been around

them long enough. This”—she gestured over her shoulder—

“has been a spat waiting to happen ever since Jude came back.

Now let’s go get some breakfast while they get it out of their

systems.”

She started down the hal . His stomach knotted as the

shouting continued behind the closed door. The acoustics

swallowed up most of the words, but the fury was palpable

even from here.

“A.J.?”

He turned.

Shiloh raised her eyebrows. “You coming?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I—” He threw the door one last look, then

followed her down the hal . If the fur was flying between Jude

and Connor, he didn’t want to be anywhere nearby.

As they waited for the elevator, he asked, “What are they

arguing about, anyway?”

Shiloh groaned. “Connor booked a photographer for

the album artwork.” The elevator doors opened, and they

stepped inside. She stabbed the button with her thumb. “Jude

said something about having a possible scheduling conflict,

and . . . well, there they went.”

The doors closed, and A.J.’s stomach dropped faster than

the elevator.

“These guys. I just . . .” Shiloh kneaded the back of her

neck. “They were exhausting back then, and now . . . Fuck.”178

A.J. chewed the inside of his cheek. “So it’s just schedule

bullshit?”

“This time,” she muttered. “I mean, you know Connor.

He’s got that tendency to commit us to things like this without making sure everyone’s free. And yeah, it’s annoying, but hey,

at least someone’s getting shit done. Kristy’s got so much on

her plate, and I’m not very good at . . .” She waved her hand.

“Anyway. So Jude asked him about the dates, and if it was

written in blood or if there was a possibility of rescheduling, and off they went.”

He could see Connor flying off the handle like that, but

Jude? “Really? That’s it?”

She laughed humorlessly as the elevator lurched to a stop.

“Here’s the thing with those two.” They stepped out and

headed toward the ground-floor café. “If they’re screaming at

each other, you can almost guarantee that whatever they’re

screaming about is not what they’re actually fighting about.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because neither of them can communicate for shit.

You’ve got Connor and his insane temper. Then you’ve got

Jude and that damned impulsive streak. The minute one

pisses the other off, Connor blows up and Jude goes off and

does something stupid.” She shook her head and clicked her

tongue. “Sunrise, sunset.”

His stomach twisted. “Any idea what they
are
fighting

about this time?”

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Let’s hope my guess is wrong, and Connor doesn’t have a

clue.
In the café they grabbed some food, paid, and took the table by the window. He sat down gingerly, wincing as every

ache and twinge reminded him of that long, long night. 179

As he sipped his coffee, Shiloh picked at the muffin

she’d bought. “So you and Jude go out partying last night or

something?”

A.J. nearly spat coffee all over her, but managed to choke

it down. “What?”

She laughed. “He came limping in this morning like he’d

been run over by a truck. And now you’re—” Abruptly, her

expression hardened. “A.J. . . .”

He cleared his throat, struggling to hold her gaze.

She narrowed her eyes. “Where were you last night?”

I’m guessing “inside Jude” is not the right answer here . . .

He coughed again to get his breath moving. “Am I

suddenly—”

“Cut the crap.” She set her jaw. “If something happened

between you and Jude, I would suggest—”

“What the hell, Shiloh?” He threw up his hands, nearly

unloading his coffee in the process. “I’m moving a little slow

this morning, and suddenly you think I was screwing around

with Jude?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. Folding her arms, she

asked coolly, “Were you?”

“What makes you think I was?”

She chewed her lip, her eyes darting down for a moment

before meeting his again. Then she pushed her muffin away.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line. It . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” She showed her palms. “I’m sorry, A.J.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. As he replayed the

conversation in his head, though, his tone made him cringe.

“I’m sorry too, by the way. For getting so defensive. I . . . didn’t mean . . .”

“It’s okay.” She faced him and smiled. “I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

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“Honey, I accused you of sleeping with a bandmate.” She

covered her face with her hands for a moment, then dropped

them and looked him in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I’m just . . . I’m so worried about the band.”

A.J. swallowed. “You think history’s going to repeat

itself?”

She nodded. “The band has almost fallen apart twice

thanks to members screwing around with each other, and

I guess with as volatile as those two have been all morning,

I’m . . .” She slouched in her chair. “God, I don’t even know.

The thing is, when Wyatt quit, I was scared things would fall

apart. It was even worse when Jude left because we thought

we’d missed our shot at a record deal. And now, I mean, ever

since Jude came back, I’ve been waiting for . . . something to

happen. Like he’s just here temporarily, and right when we

need him the most, shit’s going to hit the fan somehow and

send him packing again.” She leaned forward, pressing her

fingers into her temples. “How many more times will this

band survive that kind of thing, you know?”

He absently turned his coffee cup between his fingers and

shifted in his chair, the twinges in his hips reminding him

how right Shiloh was about his whereabouts last night.

She lowered her hands, and when she met his gaze, her

eyes looked exhausted. “We’ve all worked so hard for this. It

just pisses me off how it can be built up by half a dozen people, and completely wrecked by one. Or two, I guess.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He sipped his coffee and didn’t taste it.

“Maybe a year and a half was long enough for both of them to

mature though.”

She snorted. “You heard them. They haven’t changed.”

She picked at her muffin again. “All I can do is hope they don’t start fucking again.”

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His mouth went dry. “Hypothetically, if they did—”

“I would choke the shit out of both of them.” The hard

edge of her tone left him wondering if she was exaggerating

at al .“Well.” He muffled a cough. “Let’s hope they don’t.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope.”

By the time Shiloh and A.J. returned to the studio, the

shouting had ceased. Connor was nursing a cup of hot tea,

probably to soothe his throat, and the guitarists were tuning

their instruments.

“Feel better?” Shiloh asked through clenched teeth.

Connor shot her a glare. “Let it go.”

“I could say the same to you,” she growled. “You’re going

to kill your voice and—”

“Guys,” A.J. said, quietly and cautiously. “We only have

the room for a few more hours. Where’s Jude?”

“Smoking,” Connor muttered.

“Should I go get him?” A.J. asked. “So we can get started?”

Shiloh’s eyes darted toward Connor, but then she sighed

and rolled her shoulders. “Yeah. You know where the smoke

pit is?”

He nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He left the studio

and headed out to the balcony that the smokers used. Sure

enough, Jude was standing out there, gazing at the hills with a cigarette between his fingers.

As A.J. shut the door behind him, Jude turned around.

They both tensed. Jude took a deep drag, lowered his gaze,

and then faced the hills again.

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A.J. stopped beside him. “Sounded like things got pretty

rough with Connor.”

“Sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s okay. You all right?”

Jude nodded. The hand holding his cigarette shook

slightly. Nicotine? Adrenaline? Nerves? Hard to say. “Just

needed a minute.”

“Did you guys sort out the schedule?”

Jude half shrugged. “As much as we ever will. Just annoys

the shit out of me that he expects the whole band to be at

his beck and call without so much as checking.” He brought

the cigarette up but lowered it again without taking a drag.

“Richie and Vanessa both told him three times last week

that they had shit going on, and now they’ll have to shuffle it around so they can be at that photo shoot, which is a pain in

the ass for both of them. I mean, we only get a little bit of time at home before we’re back out on the road again. Anything we

need to get done, we have to do it now. Richie’s trying to get

some dental work done; Vanessa’s . . . I’m not even sure what

she’s doing, but you get the idea.”

A.J. nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Anyway.” Jude finally took a drag. “I called him out, he

lost his temper, and . . .”

“So I saw.”

Jude deflated. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of

conflict.”

“Can’t really be avoided.” A.J. paused. “And, uh, speaking

of which . . .”

Jude faced him, eyebrows up.

“While you two were fighting, Shiloh and I had an

interesting conversation.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

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“Us. Kind of.”

Jude’s eyes widened. “Does she . . . You didn’t tell her,

did you?”

“No. But she suspected it.”

“Why?”

“Because she noticed that neither of us was walking very

comfortably this morning.”

“Oh.” Jude looked out at the hills again. “Shit. But you

shot it down? Told her we—”

“Yeah, I took care of that part.” He swallowed. “The thing

is, she was really stressed about you and Connor fighting.”

Jude sighed. “I know. We shouldn’t have done it in front

of the rest of the band.”

“Well, there’s, I mean, there’s that. But she’s worried about

the band fal ing apart again. And I got the feeling she’s not

just worried about you and Connor causing it.”

Jude turned to him. “You think she’s really onto us?”

“Who knows? I think she’s just edgy about anyone

hooking up or breaking up.” A.J. folded his arms loosely,

just trying to give his hands something to do. “Are we being

idiots? Getting—” He glanced at the door. “Getting involved

with each other?”

“Probably. We knew that going into it.” Jude shook his

head. “I don’t want to put the band at risk any more than you

do. And I think me and you can be a bit more levelheaded

about things than me and Connor could.”

“Still . . . shit happens.”

“Yeah. It does.” Jude pulled in a breath and pushed his

shoulders back. “What do you think we should do?”

A.J. knew damn well what the answer was, but Jude locked

eyes with him and things like
We shouldn’t repeat last night
or
We should cool it
stopped making sense. So did
Last night was
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just sex
and whatever other bullshit he’d tried to feed himself on his way here this morning.

The man looking back at him was more than the sum total

of aches, twinges, and regrets. They’d been circling each other for weeks, and now that they’d finally given into the physical

temptation . . .

Goddamn. That wasn’t a one-night stand, was it?

They’d been avoiding each other physically, keeping each

other at arm’s length to avoid what they both knew they

wanted, but what A.J. had really missed most was that period

when they’d found every excuse imaginable to hang out and

talk. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d looked forward to

Jude’s smoke breaks almost as much as Jude probably had, and

he missed that even more than he itched for physical contact.

In his mind, he heard Jude and Connor shouting.

“If they’re screaming at each other about something,”
Shiloh had said,
“you can almost guarantee that whatever they’re

screaming about is not what they’re actually fighting about.”

He swallowed. That was what they’d done too, wasn’t it?

They’d avoided each other under the pretense of not giving

into sexual temptation. They’d kept their distance, and he

realized now that while he thought they’d been circling each

other, they’d been spiraling closer. And closer. And closer.

Until yesterday. And last night. And now.

Jude gulped. A.J. couldn’t read his mind, but that wasn’t

just a blank, inquisitive stare. This wasn’t in A.J.’s imagination, was it?

And when had he started drumming his fingers on the