Twisted(136)
“Thanks. That means a lot.”
“You and I gotta stick together. We’re outnumbered here—”
Gray glanced back as Nick began coughing and flailing against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“Some new syndrome that’s twice as bad as Tourette’s. In a minute, he’ll start foaming at the mouth and pissing his pants.”
Nick managed to stop coughing long enough to glare at Simon. “What’d I tell you about shutting up?”
Gray glanced back at Deak. “Those two are something.”
“Best friends. It’s basically a sickness for two.”
“Guess so.” He’d never had that issue with his best friend, but she also didn’t have the maturity of a ten-year-old, so that probably made a difference. “Where are my clothes?”
Deak pointed to another dressing table on the other side of the room. “Right there. Underneath the shirt is a surprise from Harper.” He grinned. “A little birdie told her your favorite.”
“Booyah. That almost makes up for the hell I’m about to endure.” He went over to the dressing table and pushed aside the clothes to pick up the plastic-wrapped plate with a sticky note on top. “Look, she gave me a heart.” He pinned it to his shirt. “Think she likes me more than you, man.”
“I don’t doubt it at the moment. Morning sickness is kicking her ass. They never like us too much then, fair warning.”
Gray peeled off the plastic and took a heady sniff of the chocolate-coconut popovers Harper had made for him. Sin on a fucking plate. “You are a lucky man, my friend.”
“Tell me about it. But you’re pretty lucky yourself.” Deak grinned and headed for the door with Moe and Curly in tow. “Enjoy.”
Gray already had one halfway to his mouth. “I probably won’t be able to fit into my damn pants.”
“Just leave them open. Easier acc—” Simon began, trailing off when Nick yanked him through the door and slammed it shut.
Shaking his head, Gray grinned and finished his popover. So fucking worth it.
* § *
The hour of reckoning was close at hand, and Jazz had swollen ankles. That seemed particularly unfair.
Panning her iPhone around the set, Jazz waited until she had a good-sized clip before hitting pause on the recording and uploading it to Oblivion’s social media accounts with the caption “Guess what we’re doing today?” Answers immediately flooded in, from the zany to the downright nuts. But they were fun to read regardless.
She’d been slacking on the social media front for a while. Sure, she still tweeted now and then and took the occasional selfie to throw up on Facebook, but by and large, she’d let that part of her life lapse ever since things with Gray had gotten so crazy.
The last few weeks, she’d started easing her toe back in with candid pictures of Simon posing in his latest designer duds and Nick practicing like a maniac. Last night she’d caught a close-up of Deak and Harper sharing a smooch worthy of the hottest porno, and boy, had the Oblivion peeps enjoyed that.
But right now, she couldn’t concentrate on being cute and chatty with their fans. Not when it felt like her entire life rested on the line.
“How does he look?” she asked Lila finally.
“Is there any appropriate way for me to answer this question?”
“Come on, drop the appropriate for a minute. You’re a female. You have eyes.”
“So I won’t be risking life and limb if I admit he looks fucking incredible?”
Jazz frowned and went back to fluffing pillows. “You could’ve left off the fucking.”
“I wanted to make sure you had the word in mind before upcoming events.” When Jazz narrowed her eyes, Lila sighed. “See? Lose-lose proposition.”
“No, I’m just nervous and taking it out on you. Who thought this was a good idea?”
“You. And you. Oh, and still you.”
“If I throw up, I’m going to aim for your expensive duvet.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She sighed. “Besides, I’m getting rather used to a disordered environment, thanks to Killer.”
Jazz grinned. Harper had named her cat Whisk. So adorable. “I can’t believe you named an innocent kitten Killer.”
“I can’t believe you gave me a kitten.”
“Touché.” Jazz leaned against the bed and reflexively tightened her belt. She was keeping it together mostly—both her robe and her thoughts.
Worrying wouldn’t do her any good. She’d set her plan into motion and now she had to see it through. It wouldn’t be much longer now.