Twisted(112)

Jamie was more of a guitarist than a drummer but Nick had said she’d offered her help without hesitation. Lindsey, Brooklyn Dawn’s keyboardist, had done the same. The pretty blond wore a less flashy ensemble of an off-the-shoulder top and fitted pants but her beauty turned the ordinary into extraordinary. Nick had suggested Lindz add some piano accompaniment to a couple of their songs to make it seem more like a joint band collaboration, and Jazz had agreed. Why the hell not? Maybe if they crammed more people on the stage, she would stop looking at the spot beside Nick where Gray should be.

The spot she would be filling soon.

“Thank you too, Lindz,” Jazz said, giving the blonde a quick hug as well. She hadn’t talked too much to either of the girls before, but from the sympathetic looks they were giving her, she had to wonder how much Nick had told them about her missing fiancé.

Not that it mattered. They were there to help get them through the show. The rest had to wait until she’d put this night in the rearview mirror.

“No problem at all. We’re excited to jam with you guys.” Jamie slipped behind the kit without removing her boots and Jazz did a double take.

Wow, she was going to play in those? That chick was hardcore. Many of the drummers Jazz had known over the years were like her and preferred to play barefoot. But Jamie appeared supremely confident so Jazz had to assume she knew what she was doing.

“Absolutely. This is going to be one hell of a show. We already know a lot of your classics, so to get to play with you is incredible.” Lindz squeezed Jazz’s hand and moved off to take her spot behind the keyboard.

Jazz dampened her dust dry lips and looked down at the guitar she wore. It was too big for her and she’d probably be sore from playing by the end of the night.

But nothing could touch the numbing pain in her chest. It was slowly moving outward to encompass the rest of her body. She wasn’t even nervous about what she had to do anymore. Her only thought was Gray.

When Nick joined her onstage, she struggled to give him a smile. He’d coached her through this, and someday she’d thank him for all his help. Right now getting through each minute taxed her to the point that speech had become impossible. She had no idea how she was going to sing.

“Jasmine, look at me.”

She looked. She couldn’t do anything else.

“Gray’s going to watch this tape later and be so fucking turned on by watching you kill it on his guitar that he’ll probably nail you in ways I haven’t even thought of,” he said, surprising a laugh out of her when she’d thought the laughter inside of her had finally run out.

“I needed that. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, show me up. I’ve never dueled with a girl before. Sounds fucking hot.”

As soon as the finished speaking, the house lights went down and Simon swaggered on stage to greet the crowd. “How are you beasts doing tonight? A little cold out there, so we’re ready to make it hot up in here!”

After the cheers died down, Simon tugged his old school mic up to his mouth and whispered, “Guys, I’ve got a secret. We lost our motherfucking guitarist, so we got ourselves an amazing replacement. Y’all give it up for our sweet Jazzy stepping out from behind the kit.”

The cheers and whistling from the audience made it easier for her to step forward and give a bow. She didn’t quite manage a smile, but at least she didn’t freeze. The anxiety had bled away into a dull resignation. This was her band, and she would make it work.

Nick let the first few licks of “Taste of Candy” rip, her cue to shake off the rust and join him. She allowed the muscle memory to take over and focused on just getting out the right notes in the right order, following Nick’s lead. He glanced over at her every couple seconds, almost like a papa duck checking on his duckling. It made her smile and try that much harder.

She wouldn’t let Gray—or Nick—down.

Jamie had no trouble keeping the beat on the drums, adding her own sense of flair to the rhythm. Speeding up in places, slowing down in others. She had a sense of the dramatic and made damn good use of her hi-hats, slamming on them with a vigor that Jazz had to appreciate. The girl was fucking amazing with her black hair flying everywhere and that demonic grin stretching across her face. There was someone who was enjoying herself, not just getting by and getting through.

Lindz offered her own contribution to the music, providing a texture they hadn’t had since the days Margo had sat in with them on their first big smash, “The Becoming”. Lindz didn’t have the same aggressive attitude that Jamie did but she was no less showy than her bandmate, easily bantering with the crowd in the few moments that Simon took a break to guzzle water and suck on throat lozenges. Guess his “scratchy throat” complaint hadn’t been a fib after all.