Running with Scissors (32 page)

our problem.”

“And there was a time when you would’ve made it
our

problem.”

He glared at her, but before he could speak, she put up

her hand.

“Jude, you know what I mean. You’ve changed. You’ve

grown up a lot.” She smiled. “I just wanted you to know I

appreciate that.”

He exhaled, relaxing a bit. “Thanks for not kicking us out.

Giving us a chance to get our shit together.”

“Isn’t like we had much choice. We need you. Both of you.”

“It’s mutual, believe me.”

“I know.” She stepped closer and hugged him gently. “I

know this is hard. But . . . I think you guys will be okay.”

A lump of unwelcome emotion rose in Jude’s throat, but

he tamped it down. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

She let him go. “You’ll be fine. Just let me know if you

guys need anyone there tomorrow night.”

He smirked. “You think we need adult supervision?”

“Oh. Sweetie.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I
know

you need adult supervision.”

Jude chuckled. “Shut up.”

She winked and then returned to the main part of the

bus, shutting the curtain behind her.

252

He kneaded some tension out of his neck and shoulders.

Another smoke would probably do him some good, but . . .

no. He was already on the verge of chain-smoking. They all

had to be on the bus for long hours at a stretch, and he needed to be able to cope with that, so he resisted the temptation.

And speaking of temptation . . .

He tried to push thoughts of A.J. out of his mind. It was

even harder now, though. They had gotten along, hadn’t they?

It was still awkward, but the aftermath of their breakup wasn’t the nuclear fallout of his and Connor’s. And their relationship hadn’t been as volatile, either.

He gazed at the divider, as if he could somehow see A.J.

through it. What if they could make it work? What if they

could put the band first and still be together?

It wouldn’t be worth the risk. There was too much on the

line.Wasn’t there?

He shook himself.
You’re being an idiot. It’s over. Let it go.

But what if we didn’t have to—

Let it. Go.

He tamped down on those thoughts. It was over. It was

done. The band needed him more than A.J. did, and A.J.

needed the band too much for Jude to be this selfish. It didn’t matter how much he wanted A.J.—it was
done
.

So he found the phone charger he’d been looking for,

joined the rest of the group in the living area, and settled in for the next few hours on the road.

And tried like hell not to sweat over tomorrow night’s

sound check.

253

orty-five minutes before sound check, A.J. was ready.

f He sat at his drum set, warming up his hands and

arms with a few easy cadences. Or at least that’s what he

told himself. He didn’t need to warm up until closer to the

beginning of the show, but he did need to do something with

all this nervous energy before Jude joined him.

Ever since their brief discussion yesterday, he’d

questioned Jude’s motives. Was this just a ploy to get him

alone? An attempt to show the band that they could work

together?

But then he’d listened to ‘Eagle Eyes,’ and replayed the live

version in his mind, and he’d had to admit—Jude was right.

Something was off. No matter how much he tried to tell

himself otherwise, there was no pretending they didn’t have a

legitimate reason for some one-on-one stage time.

We’re bandmates. We can work together. Why am I being

such an idiot about this?

Naturally, Jude picked that exact moment to step out

from backstage.

A.J. gulped. Right.
That
was why he was being such an

idiot—because Jude was still smoking hot, and A.J. was still

way more attracted to him than he needed to be.

254

Jude stopped in front of the drums, which were on a

slightly raised platform, and set his water bottle down. “You

ready?”

Not really.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” A.J. idly clicked his drumsticks on the

edge of the snare. “So, should we go through it once and see if we can hear the problem?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Jude adjusted the bass’s strap,

pulled a guitar pick from his pocket, and looked up at him.

“Count us in?”

A.J. hit the sticks together to set the tempo and then

called out, “Two, three, four!”

And they were off. Eyes locked, nodding in time with the

beat, they played through the first and second verse of

the troublesome song. Thank God for muscle memory. With

no flashing strobes or swirling spotlights to pull his focus

away from Jude, he was lucky he knew when and where to hit

the drumheads.

Fortunately, though, even without the rest of the band—

no guitars, no vocals—the song came together well enough.

And then . . . it didn’t. Two beats into the chorus, and

it was just noise. The drums overpowered the bass, and the

bass seemed to numb the whole percussion line, smoothing

the minute gaps between beats that were supposed to be sharp

and distinct.

They both stopped.

“You’re right.” He scowled. “There’s definitely a problem

there.”

“Yeah, and I don’t get it—it sounds fine on the album.”

A.J. tapped his heel on the foot of the stool. “Let me hear

it again. Start three bars before the chorus.”

“Can do.”

255

A.J. counted them off, and they played the transition

again. Not halfway through, Jude put up a hand, and they

stopped.

“I think I figured it out.”

A.J. raised his eyebrows.

“Right before the chorus starts, back off for a bar and a

half. Let me play you in, and then I’ll back off until the end of the chorus. When you come in, blast the intro
hard
.”

Well, that was a possible solution. A.J. wasn’t sure how

effective it would be, but it was certainly worth a shot. So,

when they played it again, A.J. backed off per Jude’s suggestion, letting the bass take over. Jude crescendoed more dramatically

than he had previously, and when A.J. came in, he played loud

and hard. The drums still drowned out the bass, but now it

sounded like a deliberate effect—as if Jude’s part was an intro to A.J.’s drum solo. An overture of sorts.

They both stopped, and A.J. reached for his water bottle.

“I think this works.”

“Yeah. Me too. Go through it a few more times just to

make sure?”

A.J. took a swig of water. Then he picked up his sticks

again, and they rehearsed the modified transition until it was

concert-ready.

By the time they’d been through the song several times, he

was definitely confident they’d fixed the problem. He stood,

dropping his drumsticks in the can beside his seat. “We’ll run

through it with the rest of the band during sound check, but

I think we’re good now.”

Jude nodded. “Yeah, it sounds great.” He smiled, though

it seemed a little forced. “Thanks for . . . you know . . .”

A.J.’s smile probably wasn’t much more convincing.

“Don’t mention it. We’re in this together.”

256

Jude took a breath like he was about to speak, but paused.

And the pause went on. And on. And he was looking at A.J.,

a weird expression that seemed like a mix of hurt and . . .

something. A.J. couldn’t quite put his finger on it, especially as the awkwardness between them swelled to the point of

unbearable.

Then Jude rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat.

“Yeah. We are. In this together, I mean.” He leaned down

to get his own water. “I’m going to go grab a smoke before

everyone else gets here.”

“Okay. Yeah.”
That was weird.
“See you at sound check.”

“Yeah. See you then.”

With that, Jude left, and as he walked offstage, he walked

right past Vanessa and Richie, who were on their way in with

their guitar techs. The techs kept walking, guitars and coiled

cords in hand, but Vanessa and Richie halted. They glanced at

Jude, then each other, then A.J.

“So, uh . . .” Richie raised his eyebrows as A.J. stepped

down off his platform. “You guys cool?”

“Yeah.” A.J. waved a hand. “Just had to work out some

issues with ‘Eagle Eyes.’”

Vanessa studied him. “So it’s not . . .”

“No. We’re fine.” He forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Richie furrowed his brow, lips tightening, but didn’t say

anything.

Vanessa glanced in the direction Jude had gone. “He’s

coming back for sound check, though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. He just went out for a smoke.”

“Oh.” She looked at Richie. They both shrugged. “Well,

Connor and Shiloh are on their way in. Guess we’d better get

set up.”

They continued past him.

257

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

The whole thing
had
gone smoothly. It wasn’t easy, being onstage alone with Jude, but he’d done it. They’d done it. And

he was okay.

Maybe they really could do this after al .

As the tour went on, A.J. kept to himself more and more.

He was professional onstage, during interviews, and any other

time he was expected to interact with Jude. They’d proven

they could be cordial to each other, and maybe they’d work

on this whole “being friends” thing later. For now, he needed

a little time to regroup. “Friends” would have to wait until he could look at Jude without feeling that ache in his chest.

God. He was going insane. What the hell was the matter

with him? This wasn’t how a person got over a fuck buddy.

Whatever. Whatever Jude had been, it was time for A.J.

to get over him.

The buses continued weaving their way across the country,

and the band continued performing, leaving ‘Unseen’ off the

set list and all their bullshit off the stage.

In Chicago, apparently Richie had caught wind of a club

that everyone was suddenly dying to check out. As everyone

got ready to leave, Shiloh stopped beside the table where A.J.

had been reading.

She adjusted her purse on her bare shoulder. “Are you

sure you don’t want to come? An evening away from the bus

would probably do you some good.” Her forehead creased

slightly; though she hadn’t come out and said it, she’d been

more sympathetic toward him than he’d probably had any

right to expect. She was still pissed at Jude and let him know

258

every chance she had, but she’d practically handled A.J. with

kid gloves. Or maybe that had to do with him blowing up at

Connor, considering that had happened the same night she’d

found out about him and Jude.

He shook his head. “I think I’m going to stay here.”

“Okay.” She offered him a card. “This is where we’re going.

If you change your mind, you’re always welcome to join us.”

He took the card and smiled up at her. “Thanks.”

His bandmates left, and he was grateful for the solitude.

He was exhausted, he was done with people, and he hoped

like hell they stayed at the club till last cal . Maybe he could even get some sleep—he’d been sucking down coffee all day,

and it hadn’t helped. He’d given up expecting anything short

of cocaine-laced Red Bull to wake him up after a few nights in

a row of shitty sleep.

Whether or not he slept tonight, at least now he had

some time alone with his thoughts. Not nearly enough, but

an evening would help. What he really wanted, though, was

to get a ticket home. Get the hell out of here. Go somewhere

he could decompress without the added pressures of traveling

and performing.

But of course, the apartment he had back in Los Angeles

wouldn’t work. He and Jude had spent so much time there,

and they’d had so much sex in his bed, that the place was

probably haunted by the ghost of their relationship.

Relationship? Yeah, that was giving it a bit too much

credit. His dick had had a relationship with Jude’s ass, and

that was about as far as it went.

The band hadn’t been gone fifteen minutes before the

bus door opened. He swallowed a curse—so much for being

alone. Hopefully somebody had just forgotten something and

would leave again in a few—

259

Oh goddamn it.

He locked eyes with Jude. Muffling a cough, he sat up.

“Everyone else went to a club.” Shoving the card across the

table, he added, “Address is there if you want to join them.”

“I didn’t come here to find them. I came to find you.”

A.J.’s gut knotted.
I was afraid of that.
He rose. “Well. You found me.”

“Yeah.” Jude swallowed. “Can we talk?”

“We probably shouldn’t.”

Jude flinched.

A.J. leaned against the counter. “What good will it do?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He sighed. All the pent-up fury—at Jude, at the band, at

himself, at their frustrating circumstances—had worn him

down. God, he was just done. With all of this. “Fine. Talk.”

Jude cleared his throat. “Look, I’ve been thinking and

I . . .” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I think I made a mistake.

When I told you we couldn’t do this.”