He paused, as if he might say something, but then didn't. A distracted nod and he disappeared.
# # #
"Say one word about what I'm wearing and I will kick you." I told the man sitting on the bottom stair and I meant every word of it.
"I wouldn't dare. When's he arriving?" Jimmy looked up, checking out my jeans and tight black sweater. Lord knows I had the assets, might as well use them. Despite my ample bosoms, his careful blank expression never altered. He'd been down in the gym, working out since everyone left an hour or so ago, sweat dampened his hair and the back of his grey T-shirt.
"He's not," I said. "I'm meeting him in town."
"You don't trust me not to give him shit."
"No, I don't."
"Why don't I drive you in?"
"Because I don't trust you not to give him shit, we just established that. Besides, I can drive myself," I said. "Us women are liberated these days. Why, next I bet we'll even get the vote!"
He raised his brows and gave me a dour look. "Right. You can't take your piece-of-shit car, it hasn't even been run in the last few months. I drive us everywhere."
"My piece-of-shit car will be fine. Thank you."
He let out a long-suffering sigh, as if admitting defeat. "Take the Mercedes. At least then I'll know you got there okay."
"You're sweet to worry about me."
A grunt.
"Can I take the 'Cuda?"
"Not a fucking chance."
I grinned. "You wound my soul, Jimmy Ferris."
He just watched me, fussing with my hair in the entryway mirror.
"What are you doing tonight?" I asked.
His shoulders and arms flexed, straining the thin cotton of his T. "Haven't decided."
Something in his voice made me pause, a hint of loneliness or a certain sadness I hadn't heard before. The man seemed almost verging upon despondent. Cranky and grumpy were normal, this was not.
"None of the guys are coming back?" I asked. "You didn't want to go hang out with them?"
"They've been here working all day. We'll be in each other's faces all the damn time on tour. No need to start now."
I didn't like it, but it did make sense. "No game on? I won't be here to complain about the unendurable monotony of it, for once."
"Not really in the mood for TV."
"What are you going to do, then?"
He groaned. "I'm a grown man, Lena. I can entertain myself."
"I know you can." I hugged my coat and bag in front of me. "But I'm trusting you to tell me if you need me around tonight."
"I do not need you around."
I hesitated while cold eyes watched me.
"Keys are in the car," he said.
The situation got me to thinking about what would happen to Jimmy if I did leave. No matter how many icicles he made with his gaze, he wasn't frozen inside, he just liked to pretend as much. But I'd seen his pain and his self-doubt. Perhaps what Ev said earlier had stuck with me. Allowances had to be made for keeping him on track. I needed to think ahead, see to his best interests. Love came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, but if it wasn't based upon doing what was right for the one you loved, then what was it worth, really?
Nothing.
And that's what my feelings for him were growing into, love. No matter how scary it was, there was a certain calm to be found in facing the truth. It might or might not have been fated, but it was fast becoming fact.
"I think you should date too," I said, the words small and tight. It's a wonder I could find them at all.
"What?"
"I think you need to start dating again for both our sakes. Just think about it."
He sniffed. "I'm doing fine as I am. It's a dumb idea."
"Holing up here, hiding from the world? That's not a long-term solution."
"No, you're right Lena." He slapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. "I know, let's go to my favorite bar and hang out for a while. We'll do a couple of shots for old time's sake and then I can pick up a girl or two, bring them back here to play. Sounds fun, yeah? I think we'd all have a real good time."
I had nothing to offer on his suggestion.
"What, you don't like that idea?"
Change of plans. What I most wanted for Christmas was to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. No one else drove me this crazy. "If you're finished being an asshole, I'll explain what I meant," I said.
"Oh, please do."
"I think you need more," I said, my voice emphatic. "You need friends outside of me and the band."
"So I'd be dating to make you feel better?"
"No, Jimmy." I bundled my coat up against my chest like a shield. "You'd be dating because you're ready. Because you're a wonderful man who has a lot to offer a woman when you're not being a complete and utter bastard like now."
He gave me a slow clap. "That was beautiful, Lena. Like poetry. I think I almost cried."
"What even is it when you get like this? Are you scared? Is it your turn to PMS, what is it exactly? Do you need a hug?" I crossed the floor between us. "Because I'm trying to understand what motivates this shit with you. But at the end of the day, you're a grown man in control of himself and you're choosing to act like an absolute prick and you're pushing away people that care for you in the process. Explain that to me."
"It's a gift."
"Try again." I towered over his seated form in my heels, furious. The man was damn lucky there were no weapons to hand. Then slowly he stood, the solid length of him almost forcing me to take a step back. Except I refused to. "Well?"
The edge of his mouth curled up. "You never back down, do you?"
"Why the hell would I?"
There almost seemed to be a hint of gray in his eyes. Like he'd seen too much, like it had aged him in ways. His voice softened. "So fearless."
"No, I just refuse to be afraid of you," I said. "I think too many people over the years have gotten into the habit of scurrying off to do your bidding out of fear of being the target of your snide comments, or at the merest hint of that famous Ferris anger. It's bullshit. I will not be like that with you. You're not an overtired toddler throwing a tantrum, you are an adult. You can control yourself if you choose to. And it's about time you chose to."
His just stared at me, face expressionless.
"Well?"
He raised his hand and ever so carefully, lifted a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Then he bent in close enough for his lips to brush my ear, his breath warm. "You're right, I was an asshole to you just now."
"I know," I whispered back.
The smile was in his eyes even if it was missing from his mouth. He studied my face, taking his time. "You never have to be afraid of me. I'd never hurt you."
"I know that too." Not on purpose he wouldn't. Never on purpose.
"Go on. Go on your date, Lena."
My chin rose. "Think about what I said."
He exhaled then gave me a begrudging nod. "Deal."
# # #
"That's the eleventh time you've checked your phone in the last half an hour. Something wrong?"
"God, I'm sorry," I said, slipping the stupid thing back into my bag. "You were explaining to me exactly what a sound technician does and I zoned out on you which was horribly rude."
My date gave me his crooked smile. Damn, he was cute. The problem with spending quality time with the godlike Stage Dive boys was, you lost touch with normality. They were the ideal that porny dreams were made of. Right here beside me, however, Dean Jennings was all that and then some. Brown hair fell to his shoulders and a silver ring pierced his lip, green eyes watched me with faint humor.
"I've worked with Jimmy on and off for the past six years," he said. "I know he can be a handful, so if you need to get back to him we can do this another night."
"That's good of you, but he's fine. He wanted me out of the house, so he's probably in need of some space."
Dean nodded. "I think it's great the way he's gotten clean and everything."
&
nbsp; "Yes."
"Couldn't have been easy."
"No."
He picked at the label on his bottle of beer. Around us, the cool people partied in the underground dive bar. It was in Chinatown, a band and hangers-on favorite.
Maybe this bar was also the one Jimmy had referred to as his pick, though it wasn't the kind of place I could imagine anyone wearing a suit. Some of the women here were definite eye-catchers. There was a jukebox belting out indie classics, a couple of pinball machines and a pool table. The place had a nice, dingy, sticky-floored vibe and they also did awesome chili fries. I popped one into my mouth and my taste buds wept with gratitude. Either that or I was drooling, they were just that good.
"Sorry. Guess you can't really talk about him," said Dean, summoning me back to the present once more.
I half covered my mouth with my hand. "No, not really."
"There's stuff in my contract about discussing them too, but since you're one of the in crowd..."
"It's a strange world we live in, isn't it? Being on the fringes of famous people's lives."
He laughed. "Yeah, it is. Some of the stuff I've seen over the years, back when all the guys were single and partying every night, it was pretty insane."
"Groupies and all that sleazy stuff?"
"All of it." He took another swig of beer.
Well, now this interested me. I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table of the booth we were sharing. "You must tell me all. Leave out no details."
Dean barked out a laugh. "They'd kill me."
"If you're not willing to sacrifice yourself to sate my curiosity, what use are you?"
He shook his head, eyes shining. Such a pretty man, not drop-dead gorgeous like Jimmy, but then, who was? I myself was no top model and yet Dean shuffled a little closer, his warm smile never fading. Now and then, his gaze dropped to the mounds of my breasts. I could forgive him that, in fact, I even kind of liked it. To be appreciated as an actual female was a fine sensation, one I hadn't had in quite this way for a while.
"I can tell you about the time he invited a couple of girls on stage in Rome about five years back. That one's pretty much public knowledge anyway," he said.
I gasped in true shock horror fashion. Gossip was the worst. "I remember hearing rumors about that."
"Jimmy'd been drinking heavily, they all did back then. At first it was cool, the girls were just hanging off him while he performed. But then during Dave's guitar solo the three of them start making out. One of the girl's gets her hand down Jimmy's pants while the other's undoing his belt buckle and going for the zipper. Jim's laughing his ass off, doesn't care. Security went on stage and stopped them, but the cops shut the show down due to indecent exposure. Fined him a shitload of money over it."
"Wow."
"Lucky no one got a clear picture."
"Very."
Dean slowly shook his head, admiration shining in his eyes. "Jimmy was one hell of a guy back in the day."
I frowned. "He was out of control, hurting himself."
"Yeah. That too."
"I think I prefer the man he is today."
"Of course," Dean said quickly. "Absolutely."
"You were never tempted to pick up a guitar or some other instrument and get out on stage yourself?" I asked, changing the subject.
"I'm no Jimmy Ferris. Crowds scare the crap out of me. All those people staring at you, gives me the chills." He mock-shivered in demonstration.
I laughed. "No, it doesn't really appeal to me either."
"Yeah. But those guys, they're made for it. Especially Jim. The man's a living legend."
I nodded in agreement. Then the most shitty, horrible thought descended upon me and I couldn't shake it. "Oh god, he isn't paying you to take me out tonight, is he?"
"What? Fuck no, of course not." Dean reared back. "Why would you even think that?"
My forehead met the table, dark hair falling around me in a curtain to hide my idiocy. "Sorry. I didn't mean to imply you'd prostitute yourself for my benefit."
"Lena?"
"I'm so sorry."
"Lena, look at me."
A hand gently applied pressure beneath my chin, encouraging me to rise. His eyes were so wonderfully green you almost had to wonder if they were contacts. Not that it mattered, I was just grateful they weren't ice blue. Also Dean's face was wider than Jimmy's, less sculpted. He wasn't as tall, but he was looking at me as if he liked what he saw, like I met his criteria, whatever that might be. No disdain, no impatience. It was refreshing.
"Hey," I murmured. "So, let's just forget that I asked that."
Ever so carefully, he tucked my hair back behind my ears, just like Jimmy had earlier. The contact was surprising, but I held still, letting Dean get closer, curious as to where this might go.
"I like to embarrass myself horribly now and then," I said. "It keeps life interesting."
"Right, I'll bear that in mind." He smiled. "I think what we have here is an opportunity to have some fun. So, with that in mind, you feel like going dancing with me, Miss Morrissey?"
My smile might have been slow, but it was wholly genuine. "I'd like that."
# # #
Dean walked me to my car close to midnight. By "my car," I meant Jimmy's, of course. Dean took one long look at the shiny overpriced vehicle and said a whole lot of nothing.
"Jimmy insisted I take it," I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "He worries about me driving in the rain. I tried to say no, but...."
Dean just nodded.
"Yeah, anyway." I needed to shut up. Talk about protesting too much.
The sweat on the back of my neck from dancing gave me goose pimples out in the cold night air and my body felt pleasantly worn out, my brain ambling toward sleep. I'd have to wake up to drive home. If I put a scratch on his car, Jimmy would kill me.
"I had a really good night," I said, offering Dean my hand.
With a grin, he took it, tugging me gently in toward him. His lips touched mine. Warm lips, warm breath, warm everything, and his face was so close. I didn't close my eyes, I guess I was a little stunned. The moment had crept up on me, silly but true. Good god, his eyelashes were really long. Also, I'd never kissed anyone with a lip ring before. Metal pressed against the side of my mouth, it was a weird sensation.
He stepped back and smiled. "I'd like to do this again."
"I'd like that too." And I meant it, we'd had a great night.
He slid his hands into his jeans pockets.
"I'll see you later." I fossicked in my purse for the keys. "'Night."
Once I was safely inside he leaned down, waved. I waved back. Then he stood on the pavement, waiting until I drove away smiling.
Tonight had been so much better, there was really no comparison. A date with a nice, intelligent man who surprised me with a soft kiss at the end. It was sweet. You didn't need to find someone who turned your world on its axis to be happy; inner body explosions and mini-heart attacks were not necessarily the answer to long-term joy. But this warmth, contentment, it was nice.
Jimmy would be pleased.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
We were halfway around the block the next morning when Jimmy pulled to a halt, his breath coming in harsh pants. No, all right, that was me. Jimmy wasn't even breathing heavy despite jogging having split me inside somehow. It couldn't be healthy. Though I'd made it further before falling apart then yesterday. Progress was a slow, gradual, agonizing thing.
"You got in late last night." He bent at the waist, stretching.
"Yeah, we went dancing." No wonder my calves were being so unforgiving this morning.
Jimmy made some noise. I don't know what it meant.
When I'd called mid-date to check in on him, he'd said something about messing around with a guitar. The conversation had been curt. Basically he'd reported that he was fine, told me to get back to my date, and then hung up on me. A normal sort of phone conversation where he was concerned.
He straightened. "Thought
about what you said, about me dating."
I tried to keep my surprise off my face. "And?"
Apparently the trees down the street were riveting because his gaze stayed glued to them. "Called an old friend. She, ah ... she got sober recently too, went through rehab. We talked for a while. She's thinking of coming up from LA so we can catch up."
"Jimmy that's great." I tried to smile. Honest to goodness, I gave it my all, but my face felt stiff, wrong.
Catch up could mean so many things. To my twisted mind, catching up rock-star style had everything to do with copulation and nothing to do with cake and coffee with friends. This was, after all, Jimmy Ferris we were talking about. His abstinence had always surprised me. He was such a big moody animal prowling about the house, snapping and snarling. All too easily, my mind provided lurid images of him sinking his teeth into someone, tongue licking, nails scratching. Oh, god, now I was panting for an entirely different reason. My filthy mind was out of control.
He'd said he only touched when he fucked. I bet this old friend of his would have finger marks all over her inside of a day, lucky girl. And to think it had been my bright-ass idea.
God, I hated me.
"Great," I said, trying to conjure up mental images of Dean. So cute and sweet and stuff, so much more within my reach. He didn't have heartbreak written all over him the way Jimmy did. There was no need for a warning sign on his handsome forehead.
"Yeah." At long last he looked my way and I hid my misery as best I could. "Listen, Lena. I am sorry I was an asshole when you bought it up, guess you caught me off guard."
"You're apologizing to me?"
He did the chin jerk thing.
"Wow."
"Don't make a big deal out of it," he muttered.
"No. No, okay. Can you just say it one more time for me?"
He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"You're forgiven. Don't do it again or I'll kick your ass into next week."
"You're about half my size."
"Ah, but I'm highly motivated and own a fine selection of pointy-toed boots. Consider yourself warned."
"Right," he said, voice somewhere between wary and amused. Little did he know exactly how serious I was. Some of those boots could do real damage on the feet of a woman with a grudge.
Then he stepped closer, inspecting the general area of my mouth.
"What?" I asked, half tempted to cover my face with my hand.
"You've got a bit of beard rash."
"Oh." I scrubbed at my lips, not that it would do anything apart from making it worse. Guilty feelings slunk around inside me for some reason, like kissing on the first date was a crime. It had all happened so fast. Dean stepped into me and his lips were on mine and I let him. That was the truth of it, all feelings for Jimmy aside, I'd let Dean kiss me. He didn't make it to second base.