Untwisted (2 page)

“The big man was too. Me, I wasn’t so sure. What do you think?”

“As long as it’s healthy, I don’t care.” She really didn’t. The fantasy of dressing a little girl up in pretty dresses and hair bows was just that. She’d be just as happy with a boy that looked like his handsome daddy.

“Yeah, because you’ll keep having more until you get your girl.”

“
Shh
. Don’t give me ideas.” Jazz grinned and pulled out her phone as it chimed with an incoming text. “Oh yay. Back to the studio. Just me today. I guess I didn’t nail the intro of ‘Torn to Pieces’ or most of ‘Monster.’ And that’s after about a hundred takes.”

Harp loaded up another chip with salsa. “I don’t know how you have the energy to keep whaling on those drums. Even heavy whisking taxes me some days.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yeah, and you’re incredible at it. If I ever decide to go for mushroom on my pizza instead of sausage, I’m totally demanding that you deliver.”

Jazz choked on her bite of rice and grabbed her iced tea to wash it down while she sputtered out a laugh. This was what best friends were for. Making you grin no matter how lousy you felt. Even when you technically had no reason to feel lousy, because you were happier than you’d ever been in your life.

“There, that’s better. I need my Jazz smiling or else I’ll go back to work all bitchy. And I already have budget overruns on the costs for that Jamison job and…”

Jazz tuned Harper out while she went back to picking at her lunch. She didn’t mean to, but she desperately needed a nap. Gray hadn’t come home until super late last night thanks to some new alt rockers he was working with, and as usual, Jazz hadn’t been able to sleep without him beside her. Her inability to sleep alone was stupid, considering she’d gone to bed by herself until recently without any ill effects. She and Gray had only been together a short time, not counting the almost decade of extended mental foreplay beforehand. But that didn’t change the sigh of relief she breathed every time he slipped under the covers with her and slid his arm around her to tug her close.

“Oh crap. Annie’s got the flu and she’s gotta go home early.” Harper was already rising and shoving her cell phone into her purse. “I hate to eat and run but we have all those stupid canapés to finish.”

Jazz smothered a sigh. “Sure, of course.” She’d lost the thread of the conversation and now she was going to have to finish her lunch alone. She pushed her plate away. Not that she was hungry anyway. “I’m sorry Annie’s sick. Can I help? I could fill in—”

“We’re also making meatballs this afternoon, which means big vats of spicy red sauce.”

Jazz shuddered. “Never mind. Good luck.”

Harper laughed and patted Jazz’s shoulder. “Keep me posted on the Molly situation, okay? And talk to Gray. You know you won’t get straightened out until you do.”

Jazz lifted her chin. “I’m an independent career woman. I don’t need to check in with my significant other every five minutes.”

Harper nodded soberly. “Of course not. Do it anyway. For me. And finish your lunch. You’re already the size of a string bean.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Pot, kettle,” Harper said in a singsong voice, backing up with a wave.

“Uh-huh. Send Annie my love. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jazz’s smile lasted until the door swung closed behind her friend. Then she huffed out a breath and viewed her mostly full plate like a climber standing at the bottom of Mount Everest. This lack of an appetite thing sucked.

As did being too unnerved to open a damn envelope.

She picked it up again, flipping it over a few times. She could do this. Whatever it said didn’t really matter. She had her own budding family now, both with Gray and with the band of misfits she loved so much. As much as she still missed her baby sister, this couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t let it.

Van Morrison’s “Brown-Eyed Girl” began playing in her purse, Gray’s ringtone, and she flushed as she always did. God, that song. Gray had once modified it to fit her blue eyes and it never failed to make her smile.

She dropped the envelope like her fingers had been singed in favor of digging out her cell. “Hello,” she said, her voice coming out breathier than she intended.

“Well, hello to you too.”

She grinned at his deep, honeyed tone. Gray’s rasp did crazy things to her belly when he wasn’t trying. When he put any effort into it, he slayed her dead. “Wow, only one o’clock and I get the sex voice? To what do I owe this honor?”

“You answered the phone sounding sexy, so I felt like I should respond in kind. And to carry on the theme, what’re you wearing?”

“Right now?” She glanced down at her bright pink V-necked top—and the clump of pork sitting on her left boob. “I’m wearing part of Fiesta Cantina’s number six special. The rest is still on my plate.”

His rich laughter didn’t last long. “Why aren’t you packing it away?”

Her fingers started to creep across the scarred tabletop to the envelope again before she mentally slapped them back. “I’m not that hungry.”

Wrong answer.

“Why not? Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure. You know, I don’t have to eat twenty-four/seven. I’m allowed to take breaks.”

“If you’re not eating, something’s wrong. Are you sure you’re not sick? Is it the morning sickness again? I thought you were better. What about those pills? They’re supposed to help. Or crackers. Deak said that—”

“Take a breath,” she advised. “And sweetie, as much as I appreciate the barrage of advice, once you bring another non-child-bearing, penis-toting individual into the conversation, the pregnancy help is over.”

“He’s going to be a father,” he said, clearly affronted, which only made her grin.

“Yes, he is. And he still has a penis. From what I’ve heard, it’s really freaking hu—”

“Stop this train, I’m getting off.”

She couldn’t help giggling. “Sorry. Girl talk. You know how it is. I promise, I told Harper you’re built like a cross between a stallion and a gorilla, with some throwback tendencies to a T-Rex.”

“You seriously talk to Harper about my dick? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“I only say flattering things.”

“Great. Now I’m the one who wants to throw up.”

She giggled again, knowing he was just kidding and not the least bit bothered. Gray didn’t have anything to worry about in the meat-packing department, and he damn well knew it. “So what’s up? I don’t suppose you can join me for a late lunch? Harp had to leave.”

“Aww, babe, I can’t. I wish I could.”

“That’s okay.” Her smile drooped under the weight of her newly squashed hopes. “I’ll see you later.”

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to be late tonight. That band I’m working with, The Grunge? They want me to head over to their practice space in Ventura. Something about getting their vibe. No fucking clue what that means, but I’m going because I think these guys are on the way up. Do you know what that could mean for us if their album breaks in a major way?”

She bit her lip and tucked the offending envelope under her napkin, out of sight. “If
our
album breaks in a major way, why do we need to worry about theirs?”

His sigh wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt just the same. “Babe, we’ve been over this. We can’t just count on Oblivion when we have a kid on the way. We have to be responsible enough to—”

“Wait, hold up. I’m not being responsible? I’m about to head back into the studio to do another half dozen takes on my parts of the songs you’ve already finished when I have an unending need to pee and can’t decide if I’m full, I’m hungry or if I’m going to puke.”

“Why do you have to go back into the studio? You’re always flawless.”

That had been sticking in her craw too, though she hadn’t fully acknowledged it since the Molly situation had taken top billing. She wasn’t used to not getting it right the first time. The rest of her life, hell yes. She was usually a moving fail from one day to the next. But her music normally came through for her.

“Apparently not now, I’m not.” She rubbed her eyes and tried to dial back the bitchy in her tone. He didn’t deserve it. He was just trying to take care of them. “I’m just cranky and hot and want to curl up somewhere to sleep. Don’t mind me.”

“Call the studio and tell them to book you later in the week instead if you aren’t feeling well.”

“Does that mean you’ll come to bed with me and keep me company?”

His silence ate away at the hint of amusement that tried creeping back. She knew he couldn’t come home. He’d just said as much, and what was keeping him away would benefit both of them. So why did she keep pushing him?

Because you need to talk to him about Molly, and you can’t say the damn words.

“I wish I could. If you need me, just call.”

“When you’re stuck in Ventura? Fat lot of good that’ll do me.” As soon as the words were out, she wanted to snatch them back, but she couldn’t.

God, she needed to stuff a handful of tortilla chips in her mouth unless she wanted to end up divorced before they’d even gotten married.

“Jesus, Jazz, this is for our future. And our child’s future. You get that, right? I’m trying to make certain we have a solid base.”

“I understand all of that. That base is part of why I’m about to go do my job. Have a good day.” She clicked off and set down the phone, cursing herself under her breath. She hadn’t said
I love you
, and the last time she’d done that, he’d gotten beaten up and nearly killed. It was bad juju, and she was being a bitch to him for absolutely no reason.

Well, other than the fact that she hated having to share him with anyone after all the years they’d spent in denial about their feelings. That wasn’t fair to him. Besides, they were going to have a lifetime together.

She should call him back and apologize.

Grabbing her phone, she pressed the number one speed dial, already anticipating hearing his husky, deep voice. She was so in love with him that it made her stupid. Surely that erased some of her bitch points, right? She’d even take the hormonal pregnancy discount if it eased some of this damn guilt.

Guilt that only compounded when the call went straight to voicemail.

She hung up without saying anything, feeling utterly miserable. He never avoided her calls. And she never wimped out on apologizing when it was due.

Swallowing hard, she tossed her phone in her purse and dug out her wallet. The waiter had dropped off the bill when she was on the phone with Gray, and the total was more than the bills she had in her wallet. Harper had forgotten to chip in her share in her hurry to leave.

Jazz sighed and dug out the ATM card she saved for emergencies. Growing up as a foster kid had made her pretty frugal, and being in a semi-famous band hadn’t changed that. Yet another reason why Gray’s lectures about responsibility rubbed her raw. She’d always been responsible about money. She’d even bailed
him
out when—

No
. She blew out a breath. Not going there. She’d spent enough time on Snarky Street for one afternoon.

She paid the bill and checked her silent phone one more fruitless time before heading down to Ripper Records’ in-house studio. Six hours plus later, her sections were finished—again—and she was free to leave.

Good thing because she was falling asleep on her feet.

Oblivion’s manager Lila walked her out to her car, her sharp heels clicking on the pavement. “So are you okay to drive home?”

Jazz cut her a glance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re so pale I could see my reflection in your cheek.” Lila gripped Jazz’s arm and tapped her wrist. “Pulse is strong. Are you feeling faint?”

Jazz had to laugh. She’d never been mothered so much in her life as she had been since becoming pregnant. As soon as she had the thought, the laughter died.

She’d never been really mothered, not the right way. Even as a child, she hadn’t been her mother’s first priority. Or even fifth. So no wonder it felt so strange—and wonderful—to have people she cared about fussing over her at every turn.

Gray would fuss over her when he got home, she just knew it. He hadn’t called all day because he was working, not because he thought she was an obnoxious, ungrateful wench.

Or something even worse.

“I’m fine, I promise. I’m just a little tired. It was a long day.”

“It was, but you nailed your parts. I think this album is finally almost in the can, minus a bit more finessing. Did I mention we’re bringing Margo back in too? Her section needed some work as well.” Lila shook her head. “So odd. You two are the biggest perfectionists yet you both needed more studio time.” Almost as an afterthought, she glanced at Jazz’s belly with an expression akin to trepidation. “Though I suppose in your case the implant had something to do with that.”

“The implant?” Jazz snorted out a laugh as she pried her car keys out of her purse. Surreptitiously, she checked her silent phone one more time. Maybe it wasn’t working. Perhaps she should borrow Lila’s. She glanced up to see her friend peering down at her with a knowing gleam in her eyes.

So much for surreptitious.

“Missing your man, hmm?”

“No,” Jazz said, a little too quickly. “Just keeping an eye on…things.”

“Mmm-hmm. Things like where he is and where he’s sticking it.”

Surely she’d misheard her. “Say what?”

Lila slid a hand over her hair, smoothing the pin-straight strands into place. Not that they’d been out of place to begin with. “Nothing. That’s just my own insecurities talking. Gray would never do that to you while you were pregnant.”

“But he would some other time?” Jazz couldn’t keep the sharpness from her tone. “Li, what are you getting at?”

Lila surprised Jazz by leaning against the side of the used car Gray had bought earlier that month. Now that they were building their family, he’d wanted her to have something reliable and not to have to rely on the kindness of friends or the band truck for transportation.

Still though, it was a beat-up vehicle with its share of LA dirt smudged on the paint, which wouldn’t go well with Lila’s pristine pale pink suit.

“I’m not getting at anything except I’m more than a little bitter and a lot jealous.”