Twisted(28)

“Hold it,” Deacon said, pressing one big palm to the tabletop. “Aren’t you being a little hasty? He had a…serious issue come up.” He raised his brows at Jazz as if it was her fault he was forced to cover for her best friend. “He’ll be here as soon as possible. Won’t he, pix?”

Jazz darted another glance at her phone. She didn’t know what to do. She’d texted Gray twenty times, the messages becoming increasingly frantic the closer it became to eight a.m. He hadn’t replied.

The fact that he wasn’t there because he was probably getting laid had ceased to be important in light of his being kicked out of the band. She couldn’t do this without him. He was the one who’d pushed her to make something of her music when she’d been content to play just for the sake of playing.

Then, like a miracle, her cell vibrated with an incoming text.

“It’s him.” She blinked at the words on the screen until they made sense.

I’m outside. Pay my cab? I’ll pay you back.

She scrambled up from her seat, waving the phone. “He’s outside. I’ve got to go get him. I’ll be right back.”

“Jasmine, you’re under the same warning he is,” Lila said. “This is serious business and I need everyone here in the next ten or we’re going to have a problem.”

The not-so-subtle threat landed a barb in Jazz’s chest but she shook it off and moved to the door. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

Outside, she found Gray leaning against a yellow cab. He wore the same clothes as last night, though they were more wrinkled, and his hair stood straight up. The bags under his eyes were so puffy they looked painful. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t not think about why he looked so exhausted.

Worst of all, the nearer she got, the more she smelled the perfume that clung to him. Not the cheap kind either. Nope, this was high-class scent.

Even after last night, she’d tried to pretend that he hadn’t gone off to fuck that blonde. Perhaps there was another explanation. He wouldn’t leave her high and dry for a simple booty call. Maybe that was where her logic had broken down. What was between him and that woman wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t have left her in the lurch for someone insignificant.

So that meant she didn’t need to make a move at all. He was taken. She’d had her chance and she’d wasted it. Period.

Ignoring the fist that wrapped around her throat, she pulled out some bills and thrust them through the open window of the cab. Then before Gray could speak, she turned and headed back toward the building.

It was his choice to follow her or not. She’d done as much as she could.

“Jazz, wait.”

She didn’t stop walking until his brutally strong fingers clamped around her upper arm. “What?” she snapped.

Obviously surprised by her tone, he let his hand drop and shoved it into the pocket of his baggy jeans. “I wanted to explain—”

She started walking again. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Yes, there is. I’ll pay you back. I just ended up short.”

If she didn’t look at that face she’d loved so long that her pulse sped every time she saw him, she’d be okay. She’d get through this. “Yeah, whatever. It’s no big deal.”

“Is that what you said to Nick about kissing me last night?”

Stunned, she stopped and stared at the splashy record company logo on the building while she struggled not to let the lid off her temper. By nature, she wasn’t a volatile person. She worked hard to be happy, to keep the demons at bay. She fought to count her blessings rather than her disappointments. But Gray affected her like no one else ever had.

“You have a lot of nerve,” she whispered, afraid to raise her voice in case it came out as a scream.

“Do I? Apparently not enough, because I should’ve done that years ago.” He grabbed her arm again, and this time she slapped him back, nailing him in the chest hard enough that he immediately released her.

“Should’ve done what years ago? Ditched me to run off with some blonde who takes baths in perfume? Consider this your invitation to do just that.”

“And if I do, then what? You get a free pass to go back to giving Nick closet blow jobs?”

Before she could toss back a response—or even wipe the shock off her face that he knew about the blow jobs she used to give Nick before shows to help him with his stage fright—he held up his hands, palms out. “I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. It’s none of your fucking business when you’ve spent the night balling some babe.”