Running with Scissors (26 page)

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performance high to the next, sleeping it off on the bus and

waking up ready for more.

And though he couldn’t touch Jude, watching him was

even hotter than it had been last time around. Seeing him

play had been hot since day one, but now that A.J. knew what

he looked like without that sweaty shirt on, and with those

ripped jeans lying in a rumpled heap on the floor, and what he

felt like when he kissed and when he came, watching him play

was almost unbearable.

Especially now that getting time alone—
truly
alone—was

nearly impossible. It was frustrating, but A.J. loved it. He’d

so carefully toed the line from the day he’d started with the

band, and every secret touch with Jude was like a delicious,

sexy, long-overdue form of rebellion. And he was learning

to love Jude’s smoke breaks all over again. The other band

members typically stayed away.

That was just fine by A.J. Nobody had to know.

By the time two weeks had passed, A.J. had readjusted

to the rhythm of life on tour. Play. Sleep. Practice on the bus while endless miles of highway flashed by the windows. And

enjoy the rare times when two venues were close enough

together that they didn’t have to be on the road before the

sun came up. Like tonight, as they chilled in a venue parking

lot, somewhere in Ohio.

The next night they’d play Toledo. After that it was on

to Cleveland. Since it wasn’t a terribly long drive tomorrow,

they were all up late, hanging out on the bus and winding

down after another kickass performance, while A.J. tried

to anticipate when Jude might take his next smoke break.

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Connor set his steaming mug of tea on the counter. “So, as

long as we’re all here,” he said, a note of irritation tinging his voice, “I think we need to talk about a few things. Specifically, a few things that need rejigging.”

Shiloh sat up, stretching gingerly. “Like what? Everything

seems fine to me.”

“Yeah, not me. For starters, I think we need to drop

‘Unseen’ from the set list.” Connor’s eyes flicked toward A.J.

“I’m not too thrilled with the percussion.”

A.J.’s stomach flipped. “What’s—what’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know, man.” Connor shook his head. “It’s just not

there.”

“It was fine when we were recording. Wasn’t it?”

Connor laughed dryly. “We had a sound engineer to pick

up the slack.”

Richie brushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

“Should we try it with Jude on drums?”

“That might not be a bad idea,” Connor said.

A.J.’s mouth went dry, and a sick feeling grew in the pit

of his stomach. He wanted to jump in and get territorial, but

he bit his tongue. No point in risking his place in the band

over his place in one song.

It’s just one piece, idiot. Relax.

Vanessa eyed Connor. “You want to put Jude on drums?

This from the guy who didn’t even want him here?”

Jude bristled, glancing at A.J.

Connor shrugged. “Jude left, so as far as I’m concerned,

he should stay gone. But if he
is
gonna be back in the band, then we might as well put him where he’s strongest. At least

part of the time.”

Vanessa cocked her head. “What about A.J., though?”

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Connor glanced at him and then shrugged, but didn’t add

anything.

“We need a bassist,” Shiloh said. “Even if we put Jude on

drums for a song or two, we still need someone to play bass.”

“‘Eagle Eyes’ and ‘Unseen’ don’t need—”

“A.J. is the band’s drummer,” Jude said sharply. “If you’ve

got a problem with how he’s playing, then let’s address the

musical and technical issues before we start giving people

the boot.”

Connor’s nostrils flared. Jude’s lips tightened.

A.J.’s heart shifted into overdrive—
C’mon you two, don’t

blow up. Not tonight.
“Listen, we—”

“Let’s keep this civil, guys.” Shiloh gestured for both of

them to calm down, and then turned to Connor. “What

exactly is the problem with ‘Unseen’?”

“It just feels, I don’t know, off to me. Like the beat isn’t

consistent, and it’s just weak all the way through.”

Shiloh glanced at A.J. “Okay, well, maybe we can all set up

a little early for sound check tomorrow, and we’ll put in some

rehearsal time on that one. It doesn’t sound like it’s anything that can’t be fixed. I mean, I haven’t heard it.”

“Eh, I have.” Vanessa sat back, tucking her feet up under

her on the sofa. “It’s not bad, but whatever.”

“Then I say an extra rehearsal is the way to go. Can

everyone be at sound check an hour early?”

Everyone nodded and murmured affirmatives.

A.J. didn’t know how to feel. Part of him knew this was

just one of those things that came with being a musician. You

either developed a thick skin to criticism or you played alone

in your own garage for the rest of your life. But he still couldn’t help thinking there was an ultimatum attached to tomorrow’s

extra rehearsal. Like the whole band was counting on him to

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get his shit together, and if he didn’t, well, his replacement

was already on the payrol .

Stop it. You’re being paranoid.

Connor picked up his tea. “I still think we should talk

about switching them around.”

Shiloh gave an exasperated sigh. She opened her mouth

like she was about to speak, but Jude beat her to it: “I think

I’m going to grab a smoke. A.J., you want to come with me?”

Cold panic knifed through A.J.—was Jude insane? But

no one seemed to raise an eyebrow over it, and he did want to

step away from this conversation for a moment.

Silently, he followed Jude off the bus, and he tried not to

listen to their bandmates talking as he walked away. He didn’t

like being in this position. He didn’t like it at al . Keeping

the fans happy was important, as was keeping his bandmates

happy, and he also wanted to keep Jude happy—but he wanted

to keep this job too. And he supposed he wasn’t terribly

shocked that this had come up again. Jude was an amazing

drummer. A.J. was . . . A.J. And at least it wasn’t the whole set.

It wasn’t the end of the world or his career. Hopefully.

Outside, Jude lit a cigarette. “You’re not happy about this,

are you?”

“Would you be?”

“I’m not, and I’m the one they’re talking about putting

on the drums.” He turned his head to blow out some smoke.

“Why don’t you say something?”

A.J. eyed him. “And piss Connor off?”

“Why not? We all do.”

“I’m . . . I guess I’m worried about being elbowed out of

the band.”

Jude’s brow pinched. “By me?”

A.J. lowered his gaze. “I guess. Yeah. Not deliberately,

but . . . let’s face it, I suck at confrontation, and since you’ve 206

been back . . .” He made himself meet Jude’s eyes. “You’re a

way better drummer than I am. You know it, I know it, and

the rest of the band knows it. So I guess I’m just afraid to rock the boat and give them another reason to replace me.”

“A.J.” Jude touched his face. “You didn’t get this gig

because you’re a ‘decent enough’ drummer. I know this band.

They’re picky as fuck. And you’re an absolutely amazing

drummer. Believe me, that is not something I throw around

casual y.”

A.J. sighed. “So what do I do when they talk about

switching us out on a song?”

“Put your foot down.
You
are the drummer in this band.

Not me.”

“Put my foot down?” A.J. laughed uncomfortably. “That’s

almost as much of a stretch as me telling Connor to stop being

a temperamental dick.”

“Yeah, I know, but the thing is, even if you
were
just here for the tour, which you’re not, you don’t have to be a doormat.

I know it’s hard, but stand up for yourself.”

A.J. rolled his eyes. “Are you forgetting who you’re

talking to?”

“No, not at al . And I’m not saying it’s easy. But my God,

nobody needs to be walking all over you like that.”

A.J. rubbed the back of his neck with both hands. “I’ve

heard you and Connor fighting. I’ve heard you all fighting.

Can’t say I’ve noticed this group being all that receptive to

pushback.”

“They’re not.” Jude shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean they

shouldn’t
get
it.” He glanced up at the bus and then squeezed A.J.’s arm briefly before withdrawing his hand. “Don’t let

Connor or anyone else push you around. And I’ll have your

back. I promise.”

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Exhaling slowly, A.J. nodded. “Thanks. I really do

appreciate it.”

Their eyes met in the low light. Damn, but he really

wanted Jude to kiss him right then. He could just feel the

reassurance that would come from a gentle embrace and a soft

kiss, but . . . not out here. Not this close to their bandmates, and especially not with the Sword of Damocles tickling the

back of his neck.

“Let’s go back inside.” Jude dropped his cigarette and

crushed it beneath his foot. “Whatever you say to them, like I

said, I’ve got your back. I promise.”

A.J. nodded, pul ing in a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do

this.”As they boarded the bus again, he caught the conversation in progress, and his blood turned cold.

“As long as we’re talking about putting Jude on the

drums,” Richie was right in the middle of saying, “we should

really have him play ‘Eagle Eyes’ too. Kind of like a showcase

of our old drummer or something.”

“So we’ve settled who’s drumming on ‘Unseen,’ then?”

Vanessa asked. “Jude’s taking over for A.J.?”

A.J. cleared his throat. “No.”

Every head turned toward him. Cheeks burning and

stomach twisting, he gritted his teeth and didn’t back down.

Connor bristled. “Is that right?”

A.J. didn’t dare look at Jude, not even for reassurance as

he spoke. “Yes. It is. You want me to fix the percussion line,

then tell me what’s wrong, but I’m not getting shuffled off the stage.”

“So, what?” Connor asked through his teeth. “You don’t

think we should go with the absolute best on each piece?”

“I think if you want Jude on percussion instead of me,

you need to just come out and say it.” He kept his voice firm

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despite the certainty that he was talking his way right out

of the band. “You guys didn’t hire me on because I was just

good enough to hold my own until you could eventually find

someone better, or you’d have kicked me out ages ago. So

make a goddamn decision—either I’m the drummer, or I’m

out, but I’m not going to be slowly pushed off the fucking

stage.”

Vanessa and Shiloh exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Connor straightened. “You really want to give the band

ultimatums just to satisfy your fucking ego?”

“No. I want the band to treat me like I’m part of it instead

of a stand-in until something better comes along. If that’s

what I am, fine. But if I’m not, then how about we fucking

act like it?”

Connor’s lips parted. A.J.’s heart went into overdrive.

There was no backing down now, and Lord, he wanted to

back down.

“He’s right, Connor.” Shiloh stood, folding her arms

loosely. “A.J.’s been with us since the first album. He’s as much a part of this band as any of us.” She nodded past him. “Jude

made his decision. And we made a decision to bring A.J. in to

take his place. So I say we stick to the plan to rehearse early tomorrow, and—”

“We shouldn’t have to rehearse like that this late in the

game,” Connor snapped. “You’ve been practicing it for how

long? We’ve fucking recorded it, and now you can’t—”

“It’s a complicated piece,” A.J. threw back. “I’ll work on

it, but how about mentioning it to me and giving me a shot

at working it out before you start threatening to switch me

out with Jude?” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I

mean, as long as we’re on the subject, maybe while Jude fills

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in on drums, I can try my hand at vocals. You’re replaceable,

aren’t you?”

Connor’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Excuse me?”

“What? So we’re all replaceable and can get shuffled

around, but you can’t? Or is it just me?”

“Okay, okay. Guys. Take it easy.” Shiloh stepped in

between them, holding out her hands as if to push them

apart. “Both of you.”

“Take it easy? Do you hear—?”

“Back off, Connor. He’s right.” She shot him a look that

Kristy would’ve been proud of. “Every one of us, yourself

included, struggles with a song now and then, and we all have

off days. A.J.’s an awesome drummer, and we’re not switching

him out every time he isn’t perfect unless we’re also going to

replace
you
every time your voice gets scratchy.”

Connor’s eyes darted back and forth from her to A.J. No

one made a sound, and A.J.’s heart thumped as much from

nerves as frustration.

Then Connor exhaled and threw up his hands. “Fine.

Whatever.” Connor’s lips pulled tight as he turned to A.J., and then he shrugged. “We’ll rehearse tomorrow, and if we have

to, we’ll cut the song from the set list until he gets it right.”

A.J. swallowed. He could have done without the barb—

as if Connor never struggled with any of their music—but