Running with Scissors (25 page)

recording part of “Fanatic.” Shiloh and Vanessa stood behind

the producer, gesturing at the whiteboard listing the album’s

tracks.

“I think ‘Unseen’ would work better after ‘Eagle Eyes,’”

Vanessa said. “‘Unseen’ and ‘Delirium’ just . . . I don’t know.

They don’t really go together.”

“Hmm.” Shiloh tapped her chin with the capped end of a

marker. “But ‘Delirium’ isn’t a good opening number. Maybe

if we flipped ‘Delirium’ and ‘Convicted’?”

“Oh, that could work.”

“Okay. I’ll play through all the preliminary recordings

tonight and see how they flow together. If it works, we can

run it by the band tomorrow and go from there.”

“Cool. Could you send me the recordings too?”

“Will do.” Shiloh made a note on the board, and as she

turned around and put the cap back on the pen, she saw

Jude. “Oh, hey. Didn’t realize you’d come back.” Her cheerful

expression faltered. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Where’s Connor?”

“Where do you think?” Vanessa muttered.

Shiloh gestured at the door. “He and A.J. went to get

coffee.”

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Jude’s chest tightened. He was with
A.J.
? But he quickly pushed that pang of jealousy aside—odds were A.J. was taking

one for the team and calming Connor down. No wonder he

hated being the peacekeeper.

Shiloh studied him. “Everything okay? I heard Connor

grumbling on his way out, and now you’re quiet, so . . .” Her

eyebrows rose.

“Yeah. Everything’s good.” He rolled some stiffness out

of his shoulders and absently pulled his cigarettes from his

pocket but then slid them back in. “Just . . . still finding my footing with Connor, I guess.”

She laughed, a note of hoarseness sharpening the edges. “I

don’t think anyone ever really finds their footing with him.”

“True fact.”

“It seems to be working out, though.”

Vanessa snorted. “You didn’t hear them fighting earlier.”

Shiloh groaned. “Really? Again?”

Jude’s cheeks burned. “Yeah. It . . .” He shook his head. “It

was stupid.”

“Always is,” Vanessa muttered.

“She’s got a point,” Shiloh said. “But, honestly, even all the

head-butting this week, I’ll take it, because things could’ve

been worse between you two.”

“Yeah, I know.”
And if Connor finds out about A.J., they’ll
get
a
lot
worse.
“To be honest, sometimes I really wish he and I could go back to the way things were. Not . . . not dating, I mean. But . . .”

“Friends?”

He nodded. “Probably a tall fucking order, but a guy can

dream.”

“Give it time. It’s an adjustment for both of you. Just

keep doing what you’re doing. Play the music, be a member

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of the band, and let Connor come around on his own.” She

smiled and squeezed his arm. “He really will come around

eventual y.”

“If I keep playing my cards right, right?”

Withdrawing her hand, she shrugged. “One of you has to

be the adult.”

Jude laughed dryly. “Guess I owe everyone that much.”

“Yeah, you do.” There were no barbs attached to the words,

and when she went on, she looked him in the eye. “Hang in

there. You’re doing a pretty damn good job of making up for

what happened in the past. The rest will work itself out.”

“We’ll see.”

“It’ll be fine.”

The studio door opened. As Jude turned, Connor walked

back in, and though there was still poison in his eyes, he was

obviously calmer now. The tension between his eyebrows

had loosened, and his shoulders weren’t drawn up like he

was about to take a swing at someone. He and Jude made eye

contact, and Jude tightened his jaw.

Connor muttered something in that way of his and

brushed past Jude. Then, more clearly, he said, “We need to

get to work on ‘Eagle Eyes.’ We are way behind on that one.”

Jude nearly fired something back but then turned as A.J.

came into the studio, casually sipping a cup of coffee.

One look at A.J., and all the knots from Connor’s presence

seemed to unwind at once.

There you are. Now I can concentrate. And breathe. And not

commit murder.

“You doing okay?” A.J. asked.

Now that you’re here . . .

Jude nodded. “Yeah. Just needed to cool off for a minute.

How is . . .” He nodded toward Connor.

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A.J. rolled his eyes, and as he brought his coffee up to his

lips, quietly said, “Same. He just needed to vent and bitch.”

“Thanks for giving him an ear. Sorry you had to—”

“It’s okay.” A.J. took a sip. “We all have to work together,

so if listening to him bitch means he calms the fuck down,

then . . .” He half shrugged.

“Still, I hate putting you in that position. I definitely owe

you one.”

A.J. glanced around. Then he winked. “You’re damn

right you do.”

Jude gulped and broke eye contact, certain someone had

not only heard, but could read between the lines. And even

if they hadn’t, well, there went his concentration. No matter

how frustrating today was—and it probably would be—he

knew what was waiting for him tonight.

He turned to A.J. again.

Just a few more hours, and I am all yours.

A hint of a grin played at A.J.’s lips.
I know you are. And I
can’t wait.

From the moment they’d started recording, the pace had

been grueling and the process had been fast. More and more,

it looked like they’d meet the label’s tight deadline after al .

With every track they wrapped, the tension between the

bandmates came down a notch. Even Connor started calming

down, especially once they were in the homestretch, when

there was little left to do except record two more tracks and

clean up the previous three.

The effect wasn’t the same for Jude, though. Every track

they wrapped made him sweat a little more. The album would

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be finished soon. Then the tour planning would go from

something Kristy ran in the background to something they’d

all be thinking about constantly.

It meant his time would no longer be divided into days

with the band and nights with A.J. Privacy and personal space

were about to go on indefinite hiatus. Sex would become a

luxury like hot showers and home-cooked meals.

As much as he prayed for a few extra nights, there was

no stopping the inevitable, and before he knew it, the day

had come. The album was complete, and it was amazing—

everything he had ever dreamed of in a record. The music was

quintessential Running with Scissors—a solid mix of bal ads

and more upbeat tracks, Connor and Shiloh’s songwriting

blending with the rest of the band’s instrumental support,

and topped off with the producer’s magic refining the sound

quality to near perfection.

Even the artwork was sublime. They’d gone out to a beach

near Santa Monica with a photographer, and in between

individual shots of each bandmate standing on rocks or in the

surf, he’d managed to get a shot of everyone—even Connor

and Jude—laughing at something. Nobody needed to know

that after everyone had left, once the camera and prying eyes

were long gone, A.J. and Jude had stolen a long kiss on the

sand, surrounded by their bandmates’ footprints. There were

no photos of that, but it was burned into Jude’s memory, and

every time he saw the album artwork, his mind went right

back to that moment.

Especially since moments like that were probably all he

and A.J. were going to have for a while. Being able to sneak

quickies and handjobs at the studio and spend nights together

at A.J.’s apartment—that was great. Awesome, in fact.

But now the time had come to hit the road again.

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The label was promoting the album all over God’s green

earth. The tour was mapped out, choreographed at every level

from the stage to the highway.

Jude had dreamed about a headlining tour since he was a

kid. That night, lying beside A.J. for the last time before they’d head out on the road, his feelings were decidedly mixed.

“You ready for this?” A.J. asked.

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah. Same here.”

“I’m looking forward to playing shows again, but . . .” He

kissed A.J.’s temple. “Some parts of it are going to be hell.”

“Nah. We’ll make it work.”

“We will.” He stroked A.J.’s hair. “But not being able to

touch you is going to drive me insane.”

“Tell me about it.” A.J. met his eyes, and his smile made

Jude’s heart beat faster. “We’ll be okay, though. It beats the

hell out of one of us going on tour while the other stays home.”

“Good point. We’ll get to see each other.” He couldn’t

help smiling too. “We’ll get to see each other a lot.”

A.J. kissed him lightly. “See? We’ll be fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jude pulled him closer and slid his hand

beneath the covers. “But maybe we should get a head start on

making up for lost time.”

“You think?”

“Yes, I do.”

Not being able to touch A.J. would definitely be

frustrating, but he was oddly at peace with the idea. They

could have all the sex they wanted after the tour. On the road, though he’d always be at least an arm’s-length away, A.J. would be
there
. Although he was disappointed at the thought of not spending every night with A.J., he was also content with the

idea of just being with him, which was weird. He’d never

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had that feeling with anyone. Even during the good times

with Connor, once they’d moved from friends to lovers, it

had been all about sex, music, and finding opportunities for

sex or music. Any time they spent alone, they were either in

bed or working out new music for the band. Half the

excitement of that relationship had been the stolen

moments for kisses or quickies.

With A.J., it was different. Completely different. He

turned Jude on like crazy, but they could also just . . .

be together. Exchanging glances. Little smiles that no one else understood. Casual conversations while Jude smoked.

Months on end of touring, with little to no sex? He was

okay with that as long as it meant he could be with A.J.

And he had no idea what to make of that.

200

hen they arrived in the record company’s parking lot

wthe next morning, A.J. couldn’t help gawking at the

immense diesel-powered beast idling in front of them.

Since they were headlining, they weren’t relegated to the

reject buses, but he hadn’t expected something this big.

The sleek, black battleship of a vehicle could’ve fit their old bus inside it and left room for all of them to sleep comfortably.

Oh yes, this bad boy would definitely do.

One by one, the band members climbed aboard, and it

was even better on the inside.

Connor whistled as he looked around. “Shit. We must be

moving up in the world.”

“No kidding.” A.J. dropped his bag on the sofa as he, too,

gazed at their surroundings. “They didn’t give us the wrong

bus, did they?”

“Don’t anybody say anything,” Connor said. “Maybe they

won’t notice.”

The other guys—even Jude—laughed, and they went

about stashing their personal gear as well as loading up the

cabinets with everything Shiloh and Richie had picked

up at Costco. By the time they were finished, every storage

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compartment on the bus was stuffed with supplies: food,

extra toiletries, clothes, about seven hundred extra strings for Richie’s guitar since he was obsessive about having backups in

case one broke in a town without a music store. The bus wasn’t

exactly home, but it definitely felt like something they could

all survive in for the foreseeable future.

By noon, the buses were ready and everyone was

accounted for, and the caravan moved out—destination:

Flagstaff. Their tour didn’t actually kick off for a few days,

with the opening show in Houston, so everyone just relaxed

and settled into their new digs.

Since A.J. hadn’t had much sleep the previous night, he

dozed most of the way, and that turned out to be a mistake—

when it came time for everyone to turn in, he was wide awake.

Wide awake, and lying right above Jude’s rack.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Funny how sharing a bed

that barely qualified as a twin had been fine, but lying alone

on this rack was uncomfortable and irritating. He and Jude

would never fit on here, not even one right on top of the

other, but God, he missed having Jude next to him instead of

below him on another bunk.

He’d learn to live with it. He had to.

To his surprise, it didn’t take as long as he expected it to.

That first night of traveling was rough. The second wasn’t

great. But then suddenly they were on the cusp of their

opening performance, and then that performance came and

went, and the next one was in the next city, and sleeping at

night was no longer optional.

This tour was even more of an insane blur than the last

one. Now that they were on the road again, time moved at

breakneck speed—bed, road, stage, repeat. He rode one