Twisted(100)
He smiled. “Someone must love you very much.”
“I guess so. Thank you.” She dug out a five from her jeans pocket and gave it to him, then shut the door and pried out the card.
This is only the beginning of our forever. Meet me at the Grab ‘n Go in Vista View at five o’clock. Love, G.
The Grab ‘n Go? What the hell? There was a blast from the past. And Vista View, his hometown. Last she heard the Duffys had moved farther north, but that was still too close for comfort.
Guilt surged, knotting her throat. She wouldn’t wait long to tell him about the phone call. For a few days, she would help him get his bearings and deal with walking away from his addict—no, his usage—of coke. After he’d had a chance to regain his equilibrium, she’d tell him everything.
She lowered her face to the flowers and took a heady sniff. They both wanted forever.
Hopefully his idea of it looked like hers.
* § *
“All right, try that again. After we sing ‘ooh, ooh, ooh’ you should come in on the—hello? You alive over there?”
“Yeah.” Gray pulled his hand out of his pocket like the guilty schoolboy he knew he must look like. He adjusted his hold on his guitar and strummed the strings, trying to loosen up his fingers.
His whole body ached. One part of that had to do with his first almost full day without coke, weed or even a Tylenol. Another part had to do with the box-shaped rock in his jeans. He’d driven out to the jewelers right after Jazz had left that morning, with the certainty he couldn’t wait. The need to make this move now before anything else went wrong was an imperative he couldn’t ignore.
He’d put her at risk with his actions. Now he’d begun taking the steps to prove that he could keep her safe and happy and give her more love than she’d ever dreamed.
“I think I need a couple minutes to limber up,” he muttered as he stumbled over the frets and produced a sound that resembled a dying cat.
“You’ve been limbered for half an hour. What’s the deal?” Nick shoved his guitar between his knees. “Man, if you’re fucking using—”
“I’m not, okay? After last night, it’s finished. I can’t have people walking around talking shit about my…issue.”
“It’s not an issue, it’s a habit. And every time you pussy around without calling it what it is, you show how deep you are.” Nick dug his crumpled pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket. “See these? I’m addicted. Know how I know? Because when I’m stressed or pissed or even goddamn horny, one of the first things I look for are my cigs. They’re my crutch. I toss them out and then when I can’t hang, I go buy more. Pretending I can stop at any moment is just me being a lying addict instead of just an addict.”
Gray dug his thumbs into the corners of his eyes. “Not the same and you know it.”
“No, mine’s legal. Which means I don’t have any reason not to do it all day long until I run out of air and can’t sing anymore. You know, my fucking job.”
“You can’t smoke all day long around Simon. He’d kick your ass for screwing with his voice. He’s been touchy about it lately.”
“Like I care? Addicts don’t. They want their fix when they want it and to hell with the beautiful brunettes who love them.”
The corner of Gray’s mouth lifted. “She’s a redhead this week.”
“My sister had a saying. Only the color of the shag rug counts. All the rest is window dressing.”
Gray tried not to laugh. He honestly did. “Jesus. You have a sister?”
“Yeah. A twin.”
“Huh.” Gray scratched the back of his neck. “She like you?”
Nick smirked. “If you’re asking if she’d bust your balls too, the answer is hell yes. Ricki never took shit from anyone. Of course, it’s easier to do that when you’re high.”
Something in his voice struck a chord and Gray set aside his guitar and leaned forward, rubbing his suddenly ice cold hands together. “You haven’t asked me.”
“About what?”
“About why I told you to keep an eye on Jazz.”
Nick jerked a shoulder and tossed his cigs on the side table. “Why ask what I already know? You’re worried the people you owe might take a cut out of her. You’re right to worry. Those bastards don’t mess around.”
“But you didn’t lecture me.”
“What good would that do? If you don’t want to quit, me saying you should means nothing. And you don’t need to ask me to have her back. I’ve been watching out for her ever since I saw that baggie of yours hit the studio floor.”