Twisted(111)

She lifted her head, blinking through the haze of tears as Mrs. Duffy bolted into the room. “What happened?” She pinned Jazz with her accusing gaze. “What did you do?”

And just like that, the last of her dreams crumbled through her fingers like sand. She’d never had a chance in hell of anyone wanting her to be theirs anyway.

She was on her own.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Now



Backstage at Trix, the venue for that night’s show, Nick gripped Jazz’s hands. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m about to puke.”

“You’re not going to puke. We ran through the entire setlist back at the cabin and you only flubbed a few notes. Completely unnoticeable notes, I might add. With me beside you, everyone’s going to be too busy admiring my fingerwork to even notice yours.” The smile he flashed her didn’t do a thing to mitigate Jazz’s nerves.

She flexed her fingers and tried not to think about how she was holding Gray’s beloved Epiphone. She tried not to think at all, period. That was the only way she was going to get through tonight.

As soon as the show was over, she could—and probably would—collapse. But right now, she had to do this for Gray. She would make him proud of her and offer up every song she played tonight to whatever god happened to be watching out for them. And in every spare moment, she would continue to pray as she had since that afternoon.

Please take care of him. Please let him know how much I love him. Please bring him back to me.

Every hour that passed without contact from him increased her dread. There was no universe where Gray would’ve gone this long without calling her. He would never miss a show.

So he must not be capable of contacting her. That didn’t mean he had OD’d. Once she’d realized he had taken Harper’s catering truck, she’d started weighing other scenarios. It could’ve been a car accident. Not a fatal one—God no—but one where he had to deal with cops and other drivers and damage. Maybe his cell phone wasn’t working. Dead battery. He might’ve run a light and gotten a ticket and fought with the police. Even imagining him in jail was preferable to any of the other scenarios scrolling through her mind.

Deak strolled up beside them and lifted an eyebrow at Jazz wearing Gray’s guitar. “So you’re our second guitarist tonight, huh? And the Brooklyn Dawn chick is filling in on drums?”

“Yes,” Nick said, answering for Jazz. “Jamie. She’s really good. Plus, she’s super hot. Jugs for days, man.”

As usual Deak ignored their guitarist and his sexist commentary. “And what’s this about Gray borrowing Harper’s truck? She’s meeting with a new client tomorrow—”

“He had a family emergency and wasn’t able to get back in time,” Jazz said, reciting the speech that she and Nick had settled on. “He’s really sorry for the inconvenience and promises to pay her for any loss of business. It was unavoidable.”

“Another family emergency, hmm? Can we talk alone for a minute?”

“There’s no need for that,” Nick began.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” She shot Nick a calming look and led Deak a few feet away. Before he could speak, she held up a hand. “I know it all sounds weird, but please, Deak, just bear with me tonight and let’s get through the show, okay?”

Evidently he heard the plea in her voice because he nodded and pulled her into a hug. “I hope like hell that whatever’s going on doesn’t get you hurt,” he said gruffly.

She hugged him back and forced a smile as she stepped away. “Me too.”

“You sure you’re okay to play tonight? That’s a lot of material for you to learn when you’re used to being behind the kit.”

“I started on the guitar way back when. It wasn’t that hard to pick it up again.” It had surprised her how easy it had been to play, especially since she’d had Nick at her side instead of Gray. But maybe he was helping her from wherever he was. He’d always given her a little extra boost, so why should tonight be any different?

So what if she didn’t know where he was? He was out there. Okay. He had to be. If he wasn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to function. She would know.

“All right, if you insist.”

“I do, thanks.” She patted him on the arm then headed toward the stage, where the ladies from Brooklyn Dawn were trying to get her attention.

As always, Jamie wore a kickass outfit—lots of leather and denim paired with thigh-high boots and huge silver hoops. On another night, Jazz would’ve been jealous of her killer style. Tonight all she could do was lean in to give her a quick hug and a quiet “thank you.”