Twisted(30)
Jazz nudged her hip against his to make him stop scuffing the ground. Fidgeting tended to be his number one evasive maneuver, and today, she wasn’t tolerating it.
It was past time he faced their reality.
“I cover for you when you ditch meetings. I make up lies and I pretend I’m not bleeding inside when you don’t even give me the courtesy of being honest. If that’s not being a friend, maybe I don’t understand the concept.”
He twined his fingers through hers and brought their joined hands to his mouth for a kiss. “I’m sorry.”
She wanted to stay angry. Hell, she had every right to be pissed for a good long while and to nurse her hurt feelings even longer. But she loved him too much. “Me too,” she said finally, offering him a weak smile. “Now you better look lively because Lila’s ready to barbeque your balls and use them to garnish her pot roast.”
His laughter rumbling against her knuckles smoothed over the worst of her irritation. She simply didn’t have it in her to stay mad at Gray for long. Whether that was her greatest strength or her biggest weakness, she didn’t know.
“Thanks for the advice. And for having my back.”
“Always.” It was sterling truth. She would always protect him.
Even if it broke her in two.
* § *
Evidently the length of a conference table still wasn’t enough of a buffer from a peeved Lila Shawcross.
“Where the hell have you been, Grayson?”
Before he could answer, a small notepad pinged off his chest and hit the table. “Let me make my displeasure clear. I don’t appreciate people walking out of my meetings. I appreciate even less those who make up bullshit stories about dead grandmothers when you smell like you’ve been in the back of some groupie’s van all night. You’re lucky to have someone who’s willing to cover for you.” She shifted her attention to Jazz. “But make no mistake, if you go down, you’ll bring her down with you. I’m assuming you don’t want to do that?”
“Jazz isn’t my keeper.” He lifted his chin and met Lila’s gaze head-on. “She has no say over my choices, which means you can’t hold her responsible for them.”
“You might want to clue her in to that fact. And that one over there,” she jutted her chin in Nick’s direction, “because he was just as willing to recite your excuses.”
Gray glanced at Nick and got a flat stare in return. That look told him exactly what he’d suspected. Nick hadn’t been covering for him, but Jazz.
It always came back to Jazz.
“Your bandmate’s willingness to help you is a surprise in light of what came across my desk this morning.” Lila popped open her slim soft-sided briefcase and pulled out a newspaper, slapping it on the table face-up. The picture of Nick’s hand on Jazz’s ass seemed to have grown even larger. “The airwaves are blowing up with this love triangle bullshit, and I want it stopped now. Are we clear?”
Nick leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re our record company rep. Don’t you think you’re overstepping your boundaries just a smidge?”
“Time for a reality check. Your success as a band partially depends on your ability to get the girls’ panties wet. Sorry, Jasmine,” she said without sparing Jazz a glance. Her attention remained fixated on Nick. “That’s why we don’t want all of you marrying off too soon, because every time one of you gets hitched, your popularity slips. You’re too new of a band to risk much of that. One band member married works. He’s the good, steady one that the little girls find safe. The rest of you are the sex appeal that fuels your rise up the charts.”
Nick’s lips twitched. “I get it. You’re afraid Vapor over there and me want to marry Jazz. That’d be some story.” He draped an arm over the back of his chair and sprawled out his legs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not planning on marrying anyone. Ever.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” Lila snapped, “and you’re not impressing anyone here with your big-shot routine.”
Nick’s smile gleamed for an instant before he held up a hand in apology. “Sorry. I’ll try harder next time.”
Lila ignored him. “A little of this type of gossip doesn’t hurt the band. Too much starts to get the focus off the music and on your backstage antics. That makes it my problem, especially when I think those antics have a very real possibility of causing serious trouble with Donovan’s investment.” She shoved the newspaper back in her briefcase. “I mentioned splitting you up to work on the album. After last night’s events, I’ve changed the bunking assignments. The five of you need to be able to work together like a well-oiled unit, and I want you to focus on what you’re here for—the music.” She nailed Nick with a brief look. “And only the music.”