I took a deep breath. He had a point about the fans. "Well, can't we figure out something? I almost lost you twice in the last few days, and that really scares me."
His eyes narrowed. "But I'm fine. Doc says my recovery should be no big deal, just a little rest. I'm sorry I scared you, but it's in the past now."
"What about security for the bus? We could talk to Reed and—"
"Pepper," Jax interrupted, his face hard. "This conversation is over."
I studied his face. He seemed so stubborn and moody—not that I could blame him, after what he'd been through. There was no getting through to him at this point. Defeated, I slumped my shoulders and looked around the room. Maybe I could talk to him again some other time about The Reapers. It just seemed like we had to do something.
"How do I get games on this thing?" Jax asked.
"What?"
He held up his new iPad. "Do you know how to download games?"
I shook my head, stunned by how quickly he had changed topics. "I guess you need to connect to the wifi around here. I don't know what that is."
He blinked and looked down at his device before looking back up at me. The distant look was back on his face. "Whatever. We can figure it out later."
I shrugged. "Okay. How about a movie?"
"Huh?"
"One of the movies I put on your iPad."
"Oh," he said, still distant. "Yeah. Let's do that. How about Vertigo?"
"Whatever you want," I answered. At this point I just wanted to keep the peace.
He started the movie up, and after grabbing a chair to sit next to him we watched it until we were interrupted by the other band members returning from lunch. As I watched him interact with the band, I couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. Something was up with him. Maybe it was painkillers, maybe it was what happened at the concert or with his dad, but something was up. And I knew now wasn't the time to push. At that moment, I felt like all I could do was hope he would heal as the days wore on.
Chapter Seven
ON THE ROAD
Jax was released from the hospital a day later. I had been hoping his mood would improve once he was out—he'd said he hated hospitals—but it didn't. Even when Reed called to tell us he'd booked one more gig, this time at a big outdoor festival, essentially extending the tour by two weeks, Jax seemed irritable and just shrugged.
The rest of the band had been overjoyed, though, and I emailed Palmer, asking him for some vacation time. There was no way I could make myself leave Jax now, not when he seemed to need me the most. But to my surprise, Palmer extended my job with the Hitchcocks, saying that I shouldn't leave until the job was truly finished. That meant I didn't even have to burn any vacation time.
I was relieved—but also for the first time, I found myself wondering about what really would happen after the tour wrapped up. Before the incident with Darrel, I hadn't thought about it much. Everything was going so well between me and Jax that I'd just been taking it one day at a time. But after almost losing him, I knew that he meant more to me than any guy I'd ever met.
Yet Jax's strange mood compelled me to keep my mouth shut, and not bother him with details when he was still struggling with whatever was troubling him. I wanted to focus on getting him better first—then I'd worry about us.
So we settled down to wait for the festival. After two days of hanging out on the bus, which was still parked at the Roman, everyone was bouncing off the walls—and had noticed Jax's strange moodiness.
Luckily, Reed came through by putting together some promo work for the band to do. Some interviews, photo shoots, and the like. Not as exciting as playing a rock show, but it was something. And when Sky heard that we needed to head up to San Francisco for an interview, she had a brilliant idea: road trip.
A day later, we were driving up the Pacific Coast Highway, taking in the scenery.
"Pull in there! This looks like a good one!" Sky pointed toward a roadsign marked 'State Park-Beach Access.' Just beyond, the waves of Big Sur crashed onto a sandy expanse of shore.
From the front seat of the red rented convertible, Chewie tapped his sunglasses in acknowledgment. "You got it," he said, turning the wheel left. "One sunny Big Sur beach, coming right up."
Sky had been the one to propose taking the scenic route—and renting the convertible was all Chewie's idea. They said it was for a change of scenery, but the quiet glances back and forth told me everything I'd needed to know: they were as worried about Jax as I was, and wanted to get his mind off the disastrous show and its aftermath.
I looked next to me, where Jax was playing a game of Threes on the iPad, nervously flicking his finger back and forth over the screen. "Hey, check it out, Jax." I nudged his arm as Chewie drove slowly onto the park road. "It's gorgeous out there."
Outside, the scenery was pitch-perfect—but Jax's eyes were still fixed on his game. "It's a beach," he said, without looking up. "They're all the same, and we've already been to three today."
Sky and I shared a look: What can you do? It was par for the course on the trip so far. I'd given Jax the iPad to help bring him back into the world, but my plan had backfired. Instead, he was using it to check out completely. The trip up the Pacific Coast Highway was one of the most beautiful drives I'd ever seen, but whenever we passed a fabulous rock outcropping or a celebrity house, he was gritting his teeth, too wrapped up in the tablet to notice anything around him.
As Chewie parked, Kev put on his sunglasses. "Everyone out!" he said.
Sky climbed out of the back seat, her blonde hair blowing in the wind as her sandaled feet emerged onto the parking lot asphalt. "Ahhhhhhh!" she said with a dreamy sigh, stretching out her arms in the salt breeze. "God, I love California."
She looked back to Jax and me expectantly. I got out in a hurry, but he dragged behind, tablet still in hand.
I nervously considered asking him to leave the iPad behind. At first, I'd wanted to take his newfound tablet obsession as a compliment to my gift-giving skills: he clearly really liked the gadget I'd given him. But the more he'd played, the more it became clear he was irritated and withdrawn, his expression more compulsive than entertained. But how could I tell him to stop when I'd given him the gift in the first place?
"Hey, guys, babe with blue hair at six o'clock," Sky said, breaking me out of my reverie.
I swiveled around to see a park-uniformed woman with short, electric-blue hair walking backwards as she gestured toward a group of fifty-something tourists with binoculars. As she turned toward us, I saw that she was holding a large device connected to an antenna.
"Aw, man, this is perfect!" Chewie's voice was awed. "That's the Plasmatic XL, the best ghost detector ever made."
Kev squinted. "Isn't that the same one we have?"
"No, doofus," Chewie said, rolling his eyes. "We have the Plasmatic. That's the XL. And that has got to be the girl of my dreams."
A ghost detector in a state park? It seemed pretty unlikely to me. Sky, judging by her dismayed look, felt the same way.
Chewie, deep in conversation with Kev, didn't seem to notice either of us. "I'm going in, man, back me up."
"Always the wingman, never the wing." Kev chuckled, shaking his head as he followed Chewie toward the building marked 'Discovery Center,' which the tour group had just disappeared into. "Just remember to invite me to the wedding."
I looked back to Sky and Jax, uncertain whether we should go with them or walk down to the beach. If Jax had heard any of Chewie and Kev's conversation, he wasn't showing it. It was like there was a wall between him and the outside world and nothing was getting through. Sky looked to Jax, then toward the building, and frowned.
"Maybe we'd all better go in there and keep an eye on them," she said. "I've seen Chewie like this a couple times before, and he needs all the help he can get."
I nodded as Jax grunted his assent. "Sounds like a plan."
***
The Discovery Center was a dark wood-stained building with large glass windo
ws. When Sky, Jax and I walked in, we saw Chewie and Kev deep in conversation with the blue-haired woman, who stood underneath a display of posters full of birds and their eggs.
"Of course, conservation efforts have been quite—" the woman cut herself off as we approached, calling out, "Hello there! I'm Camille."
"Hi! Riley," I said, extending my hand as I marveled at the photos of vultures that lined the walls. With a nod to Chewie, I asked, "Find any ghosts yet?"
"Yeah," Sky said sardonically. "Careful with that thing or you'll summon the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."
Chewie's face contorted into a sheepish grin. "Ghosts?"
Sky squinted at him. "Um, yeah? Remember the ghost detector?"
"That's not a ghost detector," he said quickly, as if we were being ridiculous.
Kev grinned. "Yeah. You guys will believe anything. This is a. . ." He looked back to the woman. "What was it called again?"
Camille flashed a wide smile—she was beautiful, and it was clear that Chewie and Kev were hanging on her every word. "It's an advanced radio-frequency tracking system," she said, then turned to me with the device. "Do you want to hold it?"
I looked at the remote control-like gizmo in her hand, confused. "Wait. What are we supposed to be tracking, exactly?"
"The flock, of course!" Camille said, with a tone that clearly asked, what are you, dense?
Not wanting to sound ignorant, I just nodded awkwardly. "Of course!"
"If this is your first time at the center, it's your lucky day," she continued, her hands moving animatedly as she talked. "We've been tracking the Big Sur flock all day, and I'm about to go back to the bluffs. We're expecting to see three, four birds, maybe even more."
Birdwatching? It wasn't exactly my idea of a good time, but Chewie was rapt. "And you'll teach us how to use that thing?" he said excitedly, pointing to the 'ghost detector.'
She smiled. "That's right."
"I gotta huddle with my buddies for a second, here, okay?" Chewie turned back to us. Lowering his voice almost to a whisper, he said, "Guys, you've gotta go with me on this one."
Sky's nose crinkled. "I don't even know what this is all about," she said, sounding skeptical. "Birds, I guess?"
"I thought it was the girl," Kev said. "Or the ghosts. Which was it, again?"
Chewie shrugged, his shaggy hair bouncing around his face. "If we're lucky? Both."
Birds and binoculars weren't quite the thrills I'd expected on my rock tour assignment, but if it was to help Chewie?
I turned to Jax, hoping for some kind of reaction to the idea—positive or negative. "Jax? What do you say, do we go with or do we skip it?"
His tone was flat. "Whatever. It's better than more sand. Probably."
Maybe something was going to get through to Jax, but this wasn't it. I turned to Camille with an apologetic grimace.
"Follow me this way and we'll get started," she said, looking totally unflustered. I still felt a little embarrassed by Jax's antisocial behavior—and concerned about the emotions that could be causing it, especially since the convertible had left us with no privacy to talk about anything significant.
As we walked down the sidewalk away from the center, Camille held the radio tracker up. "How many of you have ever seen a California condor before, either in the wild or at the zoo?"
Everyone was quiet, except Sky, whose voice tentatively called out, "Didn't condors go extinct?"
Camille surprised me by nodding in response as she adjusted the antenna. "You're right, actually. They did go extinct in the wild—all the way back in 1986."
Sky looked confused. "But that means . . . "
"See?" Chewie said triumphantly. "I told you that thing was a ghost detector. Man, this is what I love about California."
"Condors aren't ghosts," Camille said, looking amused. "I said they went extinct in the wild. Twenty birds were left in captivity, and we've reintroduced their chicks—and their chicks—to the park and the areas beyond."
She moved the tracker antenna through the sky. From the cliffside, we could see rocks jutting from the water below and ancient trees clinging to the shore, but I didn't see any birds. "You kind of did bring them back from the dead, then, in a way," Sky said, sounding a little awed.
"Not from the dead. Just from the brink." Camille smiled as she slowly turned the antenna on its axis. Suddenly, she stopped and pointed. "There! Right over that curve. See him?"
Sky peered out, her hand shielding her brow. "See who?"
"Amigo! You can see his wings, he's heading straight toward us."
Squinting, I looked out toward the horizon until I made out a black shadow that grew bigger and bigger until an impressive wingspan fanned out over the beach below.
"Whoa, guys, check that out!" Chewie said excitedly. "I see him! Hey, Amigo, que pasa?"
Camille's voice called out to us. "Amigo's actually a very lucky bird. Not too long ago, we weren't even sure he was going to make it."
Kevin's brow furrowed as he tracked the condor through the sky. "Wow, what happened?"
Amigo swooped toward the beach as Camille handed the tracker to Chewie. "He got into a bad accident," she said. "He was recuperating for a very long time."
"You hear that, Jax? Sounds kinda like you." Chewie turned to Camille with the tracker in hand, practically skewering her with the antenna until she redirected it gently back toward the beach. "My buddy Jax here just got out of the hospital."
Jax looked up at Camille and Chewie for a long moment before letting out a grunt and looking back down.
Camille gave a concerned look to Chewie. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said to Jax evenly, keeping her voice professional. "We're all really happy at the center to see how well Amigo's doing—especially because he had to do it largely alone."
"Alone?" Kev pointed to other winged shadows below. "But I see other condors right there."
"He's got the flock, that's true," Camille said. "But his mate left him while he was still recuperating."
Kev glowered. "Wow, what a bitch."
Camille shook her head. "No, it's not like that. The animal kingdom's a different world. Condors are so rare, it's important for them to find a mate who represents a good investment of their time. Unfortunately, Amigo's mate decided an injured partner was just too much to deal with."
I glanced nervously at Jax. Someone leaving their partner because an injury was too much—it was the kind of fear I worried he might have after the run in with Darrel, and I found myself hoping he wasn't listening, even though the story was just about birds. Fortunately, he still seemed too involved in his games to notice.
"After that," Camille continued, "Amigo's been a fine bird, but not really the same. We've been hoping for years that he'd find a new mate, but it seems like he only had eyes for her."
As I watched, Jax's expression only cracked once—just once, and just for a second, but it was enough. Even as he looked down at his tablet, his fingers swiped faster, agitatedly. Sky gave me an anxious side-eye, mouthing two words in a silent plea: do something.
I glanced toward Camille, who seemed totally oblivious to the sudden chill that hung in the air. In a single, fluid motion, I swiped the remote tracker out of her hand. Her mouth opened with surprise, but I gave her a broad grin, hoping she'd mistake my nerves for enthusiasm. "How about that one?" I asked hurriedly. "That bird over there? What's his story?"
One of her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't seem fazed by my sudden interest in condors. "Oh, that one," she said, her eyes flicking down to the readout on the tracker. "You're looking at The Great One. It's funny, we never thought he'd be good at living in the wild."
The Great One swooped down along the shoreline, stopping at a brown form in the distance. He pecked once, then again, at the lump in the sand. "He looks pretty wild to me," Sky said, looking fascinated as she followed the bird's every movement.
Camille chuckled. "Now that he's eating foxes like a condor would in the wild, you'd think so. But you shoul
d have seen him when he was a hatchling. He was raised in our center, the first puppet-raised bird to be reintroduced to the wild."
"You mean, like, a sock puppet or something?" Chewie asked, his hand in a jaw-like pose to demonstrate.
She looked at his hand appraisingly. "Actually, just like that, except the puppet looked like a mother condor. The Great One was raised in captivity. He never knew his parents."
Sky's eyes softened. "Poor little guy." I looked over toward Jax to see if he was listening, but he'd moved on to a game I'd never seen, with a spaceship racing across the screen, and seemed completely engrossed.
"Not so fast, sis," Chewie spoke up. "Sounds kind of like the easy life to me. Human caretakers to attend to your every need, every meal gourmet."
Camille gave him an odd look. "Well, you know, you're right, life is different in captivity. I wouldn't necessarily say better, though." In the distance, The Great One ripped a big piece of flesh from the dead fox. "And it made it much harder to introduce him to the wild."
Jax's low, dark-tinged voice pierced through the sound of the crashing surf. "Maybe he just wasn't ready for it." I felt surprised, and a little relieved, to hear him say anything at all.
Camille gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That's what we thought at first, too," she says. "We worried he wouldn't make it—that he'd assimilate so badly that we'd have to capture him again. Or, worse, that we'd find him dead."
Sky watched as the massive condor arced upward into the sky. "But he looks fine now," she protested.
"He does, doesn't he?" Camille's smile widened. "That's because of The Wild One."
"The Wild One?" Chewie said. "Sounds like my kind of condor."
Camille reached for the remote tracker. "She's probably around here somewhere. Let me take a look."
I handed off the device to her, glad to have it out of my hands—unlike Chewie, I didn't have any particular fondness for gadgets. With it gone, I could stop pretending to care about condors and look back at the man I actually cared about.