Getting Lucky (Jail Bait #4)

I shake my head and swirl the beer in my mug. “This is different.”


“Who is she?”

I look up at her and find that knowing expression on her face that always precedes her sorting out all my shit. “She’s just this kid I’m touring with.”

“Shiloh Luck.”

I feel my eyes widen. “Yeah.”

Her smile turns cynical. “Don’t look at me like I’m clairvoyant. I saw some stuff on Twitter a few weeks ago.”

I take a long swallow off my mug. “So you know some of the shit I’ve pulled.”

She nods. “Why don’t you fill me in on the rest.”

“I just…” I shake my head. “I can’t even explain why, but I feel responsible for her.”

“Because this is her first time on the road?”

I lift my eyes out of my beer and look directly into hers so she hears everything I’m saying. “Because I’ve wanted to fuck her since the second I met her.”

“You fuck everyone the second you meet them and never think twice. Why is she different?”

I rub at the sweat on the back of my neck. “She just is. She’s got so much fucking talent, but she’s young and…I get that she’s tough, but I don’t think she’s as confident as she lets on. She’s just sort of feeling her way through this whole thing and people in this business are fucking sharks, able to sniff out even one drop of blood in the water. They’ll eat her fucking alive and spit out her bones.”

“Why don’t you think she’s as confident as she seems?” she asks, but I get the sense she already knows.

I fist a hand in my hair and lean on my elbow. “I saw something that first day—something I’ve never seen her show anyone else. Hell…if she knew I was there, she wouldn’t have shown me. But I saw it. I know it’s there—this vulnerability. I just want to protect her.”

“Have you talked to her about how you feel?”

“I’ve told her all the guys in this business, including me, are whores. I’ve told her to watch her back with her manager and producers. But everything I do only makes things worse. Mostly because I’m a fucking moron.”

She shakes her head and all that Kate wisdom shines out of her eyes. “I didn’t ask if you talked to her about what you think, Tro. I asked if you talked to her about how you feel.”

I rest back in my seat and cross my arms. “And how is that?”

She presses back in her seat, a smug smile on her face, as if she’s just won fucking Trivial Pursuit or something. “You’re falling for her.”

I blow out a laugh. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

But that’s a lie, because Kate always knows what she’s talking about. And now I know it too by the way my gut knots at the thought.

She runs her finger along the rim of her glass. “I knew there was someone the second I saw you on the stairs.”

I knock back the last of my beer, then slam the glass on the bar. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s in your eyes, Tro. There’s not much you can keep secret when your eyes tell the world everything.”

“That’s bullshit. I’ve got plenty of secrets.” A chill runs up my spine as I say it, because Kate’s the only one who’s caught a glimpse of my biggest one.

I see in her eyes we’re thinking the same thing when they darken. “Okay,” she says, but I know she’s not giving in. “Fine.”

“And besides, even if you were right, there’s the age thing.”

One blonde eyebrow goes up. “Does that really matter? The heart can’t count. There’s no math in love. No equation. You love who you love.”

“I don’t deserve to love anyone,” I say with a shake of my head.

She gets all cynical again. “That’s really what you’re going with?”

“It’s all I’ve got. And it’s the truth.”

She drains her glass and holds it up to the bartender as she sends me a huge, fake pout. “Poor me, the oversexed international rock star. I’m rolling in cash, but I don’t deserve to be happy, so everybody feel sorry for me. Boo fucking hoo.”

My jaw tightens. “You know it’s more than that.”

She flops wearily into the back of her seat. “Shit happened to you a long time ago. Shit happens to everyone. Get over it.”

“It was a little bit more than shit, Kate. You should know. You got to pick up all the fucking wreckage.”

She leans toward me on her elbows. “And I’ll do it again if I have to. But you can’t hide behind stupid excuses like you don’t deserve shit.” She shoves my shoulder hard, nearly knocking me off the stool. “Man up.”

The bartender brings our refills.

“So what’s going on here?” I ask once he’s gone. “How’s your grandma?”

A sad smile quirks her mouth. “She died two months ago.”

“Fuck!” I say, my mug stopping halfway to my mouth. I lower it to the bar. “Christ, are you okay?”

She shrugs. “Getting there.”