“No, Jimmy.” I bundled my coat up against my chest like a shield. “You’d be dating because you’re ready. Because you’re a wonderful man who has a lot to offer a woman when you’re not being a complete and utter bastard like now.”
He gave me a slow clap. “That was beautiful, Lena. Like poetry. I think I almost cried.”
“What even is it when you get like this? Are you scared? Is it your turn to PMS, what is it exactly? Do you need a hug?” I crossed the floor between us. “Because I’m trying to understand what motivates this shit with you. But at the end of the day, you’re a grown man in control of himself and you’re choosing to act like an absolute prick and you’re pushing away people that care for you in the process. Explain that to me.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Try again.” I towered over his seated form in my heels, furious. The man was damn lucky there were no weapons to hand. Then slowly he stood, the solid length of him almost forcing me to take a step back. Except I refused to. “Well?”
The edge of his mouth curled up. “You never back down, do you?”
“Why the hell would I?”
There almost seemed to be a hint of gray in his eyes. Like he’d seen too much, like it had aged him in ways. His voice softened. “So fearless.”
“No, I just refuse to be afraid of you,” I said. “I think too many people over the years have gotten into the habit of scurrying off to do your bidding out of fear of being the target of your snide comments, or at the merest hint of that famous Ferris anger. It’s bullshit. I will not be like that with you. You’re not an overtired toddler throwing a tantrum, you are an adult. You can control yourself if you choose to. And it’s about time you chose to.”
His just stared at me, face expressionless.
“Well?”
He raised his hand and ever so carefully, lifted a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Then he bent in close enough for his lips to brush my ear, his breath warm. “You’re right, I was an asshole to you just now.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
The smile was in his eyes even if it was missing from his mouth. He studied my face, taking his time. “You never have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.”
“I know that too.” Not on purpose he wouldn’t. Never on purpose.
“Go on. Go on your date, Lena.”
My chin rose. “Think about what I said.”
He exhaled then gave me a begrudging nod. “Deal.”
# # #
“That’s the eleventh time you’ve checked your phone in the last half an hour. Something wrong?”
“God, I’m sorry,” I said, slipping the stupid thing back into my bag. “You were explaining to me exactly what a sound technician does and I zoned out on you which was horribly rude.”
My date gave me his crooked smile. Damn, he was cute. The problem with spending quality time with the godlike Stage Dive boys was, you lost touch with normality. They were the ideal that porny dreams were made of. Right here beside me, however, Dean Jennings was all that and then some. Brown hair fell to his shoulders and a silver ring pierced his lip, green eyes watched me with faint humor.
“I’ve worked with Jimmy on and off for the past six years,” he said. “I know he can be a handful, so if you need to get back to him we can do this another night.”
“That’s good of you, but he’s fine. He wanted me out of the house, so he’s probably in need of some space.”
Dean nodded. “I think it’s great the way he’s gotten clean and everything.”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t have been easy.”
“No.”
He picked at the label on his bottle of beer. Around us, the cool people partied in the underground dive bar. It was in Chinatown, a band and hangers-on favorite.
Maybe this bar was also the one Jimmy had referred to as his pick, though it wasn’t the kind of place I could imagine anyone wearing a suit. Some of the women here were definite eye-catchers. There was a jukebox belting out indie classics, a couple of pinball machines and a pool table. The place had a nice, dingy, sticky-floored vibe and they also did awesome chili fries. I popped one into my mouth and my taste buds wept with gratitude. Either that or I was drooling, they were just that good.
“Sorry. Guess you can’t really talk about him,” said Dean, summoning me back to the present once more.
I half covered my mouth with my hand. “No, not really.”
“There’s stuff in my contract about discussing them too, but since you’re one of the in crowd…”
“It’s a strange world we live in, isn’t it? Being on the fringes of famous people’s lives.”
He laughed. “Yeah, it is. Some of the stuff I’ve seen over the years, back when all the guys were single and partying every night, it was pretty insane.”
“Groupies and all that sleazy stuff?”
“All of it.” He took another swig of beer.
Well, now this interested me. I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table of the booth we were sharing. “You must tell me all. Leave out no details.”
Dean barked out a laugh. “They’d kill me.”
“If you’re not willing to sacrifice yourself to sate my curiosity, what use are you?”
He shook his head, eyes shining. Such a pretty man, not drop-dead gorgeous like Jimmy, but then, who was? I myself was no top model and yet Dean shuffled a little closer, his warm smile never fading. Now and then, his gaze dropped to the mounds of my breasts. I could forgive him that, in fact, I even kind of liked it. To be appreciated as an actual female was a fine sensation, one I hadn’t had in quite this way for a while.
“I can tell you about the time he invited a couple of girls on stage in Rome about five years back. That one’s pretty much public knowledge anyway,” he said.
I gasped in true shock horror fashion. Gossip was the worst. “I remember hearing rumors about that.”
“Jimmy’d been drinking heavily, they all did back then. At first it was cool, the girls were just hanging off him while he performed. But then during Dave’s guitar solo the three of them start making out. One of the girl’s gets her hand down Jimmy’s pants while the other’s undoing his belt buckle and going for the zipper. Jim’s laughing his ass off, doesn’t care. Security went on stage and stopped them, but the cops shut the show down due to indecent exposure. Fined him a shitload of money over it.”
“Wow.”
“Lucky no one got a clear picture.”
“Very.”
Dean slowly shook his head, admiration shining in his eyes. “Jimmy was one hell of a guy back in the day.”
I frowned. “He was out of control, hurting himself.”
“Yeah. That too.”
“I think I prefer the man he is today.”
“Of course,” Dean said quickly. “Absolutely.”
“You were never tempted to pick up a guitar or some other instrument and get out on stage yourself?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I’m no Jimmy Ferris. Crowds scare the crap out of me. All those people staring at you, gives me the chills.” He mock-shivered in demonstration.
I laughed. “No, it doesn’t really appeal to me either.”
“Yeah. But those guys, they’re made for it. Especially Jim. The man’s a living legend.”
I nodded in agreement. Then the most shitty, horrible thought descended upon me and I couldn’t shake it. “Oh god, he isn’t paying you to take me out tonight, is he?”
“What? Fuck no, of course not.” Dean reared back. “Why would you even think that?”
My forehead met the table, dark hair falling around me in a curtain to hide my idiocy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’d prostitute yourself for my benefit.”
“Lena?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Lena, look at me.”
A hand gently applied pressure beneath my chin, encouraging me to rise. His eyes were so wonderfully green you almost had to wonder if they were contacts. Not that it mattered, I was just grateful they weren’t ice blue. Also Dean’s face was wider than Jimmy’s, less sculpted. He wasn’t as tall, but he was looking at me as if he liked what he saw, like I met his criteria, whatever that might be. No disdain, no impatience. It was refreshing.