Lead (Stage Dive, #3)

I groaned. “Can’t we just hang out instead? All of this constant jogging and deprogramming is tiring. You’re not half as interesting to talk about as you think you are.”


He gave me one of his not-quite-a-smile smiles. “Works for me.”

I grabbed the ice cream back from him. So sue me. It was good.

“Do we really have to watch this?” His nose wrinkled with apparent disdain. It was cute.

“It was your bright idea.” I smiled. “What other movies did you get?”

“Titanic, Thelma and Louise, and Silver Linings Playbook.”

“Interesting mix. Put Thelma and Louise on, I think you’ll like it better. It’s got a happy, uplifting ending.”

“Done.” He fussed with the remote and Brad Pitt’s sexy voice came on the giant screen. Such a great film. But Brad Pitt really was a superb specimen of manhood.

“Can you put it back to the beginning please, King of the Remote? This is about halfway through.”

He did so.

“Blondes have more fun, everyone knows that,” I said. “You ever thought of bleaching your hair?”

He gave me a snotty look.

“Maybe I should go blonde instead,” I said.

“No, don’t,” he said shortly, face creased with concern. “I mean, you’re fine as you are. I’ve been telling you that for days.” He stole back the tub and hoed in. “You don’t listen.”

Huh.

“I guess I thought you were just being kind.” Melted ice cream dripped off my spoon, onto my jeans. I scraped it up with a finger, licking it clean. This was why I couldn’t have nice things.

I looked up to find Jimmy staring at my mouth. His own lips were slightly parted, his eyes hazy. I froze.

No way.

He wasn’t having those sort of thoughts about me. Impossible, and yet the evidence in front of me told a distinctly different tale. A knot twisted and tightened deep in my belly, a thrilling sort of rush pouring through my veins. Just that easily, he’d flicked the switch, turning me on. I don’t think he even realized what he was doing.

“Jimmy?”

His gaze jumped from my mouth to my eyes and the frown descended. “I’m not kind. And I don’t say stuff I don’t mean. Stop fishing for compliments if you’re not going to believe them. It’s a waste of my time.”

A curiously snappy response, even for him.

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s really very sweet of you … in a strange way.”

He watched the movie, giving me no response whatsoever.

“You know, if I do end up leaving,” I said. “We can still hang out sometimes, do stuff together. I wouldn’t just disappear on you.”

He threw his spoon onto the coffee table where it landed with a violent clank.

“Jimmy?” I’d meant the words as a comfort. Clearly, they hadn’t been received that way.

“To answer your question, I’ve been on the cover of probably hundreds of magazines. I don’t know. Got a stack of platinum records and a current net worth of about sixty-two million,” he said, voice flat and unfriendly. “Messed up some product endorsements and part of a tour with the drug use or it’d be more. I own this house and another in LA. That’s where I keep my collection of cars. I also got a few paintings I took a liking to.”

“Impressive. I have about four-grand in the bank in savings. My watch is a swatch. Probably not really worth anything.” I dragged the sleeve of my sweater down over the poor unimpressive thing lest it get performance anxiety. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, last time I OD’ed, Dave made it clear. Get clean or I’m out. Out of the band, out of his life. He’d had enough, they all had.” He stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa, fingers kneading at the leather. It might look the pose of a man relaxed, but the reality was worlds away.

I’d gathered this from what had been said in Coeur d’Alene, but still, it was hard to hear. Those guys were his whole world, they meant everything to him. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt. No matter what he’d done, and I know he’d done a lot, I accepted that. It didn’t change the facts. His mother had hurt him and left him, his father had failed him, his brother and best friends had threatened to throw him out of the band. And now I’d been talking about leaving. Whatever our relationship, for several months now I’d been a staple part of his life, one he apparently liked in his own way.

My wanting to leave was bound to get a reaction.

“So I got clean,” he said. “Cut ties with everyone in LA., anyone who had anything to do with before. I came up here and started over. They’ve all been real supportive, my brother, the band. And I understand why they’d be willing to turn their backs on me, I do. Can’t say I don’t get resentful now and then, but I’m the one that pushed them to it.”

“Jimmy—”

“Just listen.” His cold hard eyes never left my face. “You leave, I’m not going to fall apart and start using again. Know that. I’m not trying to blackmail you here, I’m just making something clear. The guys probably were right last night about you being my only friend apart from them. We don’t always get along, but still, you feel like a friend.”

Both of his hands moved from bullying the back of the couch to holding back his hair. He gave the dark strands a sharp tug. “You’re a friend I just happen to pay to hang around, which is incredibly fucking pathetic and messed up, but there you have it.”

“I can still be your friend. I would like to still be your friend.”

Another sharp tug. “It won’t be the same.”

My mouth opened but I didn’t know what to say. He was right, it wouldn’t be the same. No more seeing him and talking to him every day, hanging out with him nearly every night. This part of my life, the time spent with him, would become a memory. The sadness inside me felt huge, overwhelming. I couldn’t possibly contain it. Much more of this and I’d explode, decorating his pristine minimalist living room in messy emotional Lena.

Man, he’d be pissed.

My stupid tongue lay still for the longest time. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” he snapped. “No.”

“Hey,” I growled warningly. “Watch it.”

He turned his face away, his jaw shifting restlessly.

Stuff happened on screen, none of it mattered.

“Lena, the point I’m trying to make is, the list is important. And it won’t work if you’re not committed to making it work. So don’t talk to me about us still being friends if you go, okay? Just … commit.”

I took a deep breath, studying his fierce features. Everything in life was so damn complicated, so confusing when it came to the heart. I don’t know when that happened exactly, probably sometime during the early teenage years when boys overtook my interest in ponies and glitter.

Resented the hell out of it some days.

“Fine, I’m committed,” I said, the only answer I could give.

“Fine.” He relaxed back, crossing his arms over his chest, satisfied apparently. But I already knew, the list wasn’t working.





CHAPTER EIGHT


“Is that what you’re wearing?” Jimmy leaned against the bottom of the balustrade watching me descend. He wore a black suit and white shirt, very classy, very expensive. I bet it cost more than I made in a month. The man was such a show pony, one that I just so happened to be hormonally susceptible to. Blame it all on my girl bits, sure why not?

“Yes, this is what I’m wearing,” I said. “Why?”

“No reason.”

First chance I had, I was writing to Santa and asking for the ability to read people’s minds this Christmas. Or just one mind—Jimmy’s. Though I doubt I’d like what I found in there. “What’s wrong with this?”

He took in my frilly navy-and-white polka-dotted blouse, black leggings, and boots. “Nothing. Just … interesting choice.”

“I like this choice.”