Lead Him Not Into Temptation (Redemption Book 2) (5 page)

This morning when Cam called and told me to gather the band and meet at Rock Bottom Brewery to discuss something important, I’ve never moved so quickly to get my ass somewhere before. I was almost thirty minutes early to the meeting when I arrived at the restaurant. I thought it would be a good idea to get there a little early and have a beer to calm my nerves.

I wasn’t expecting to see anyone here yet, so I was more than shocked to see Jen sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and laughing it up with the bartender. I can’t seem to make my feet move, instead I’m standing in the entrance, staring at her. The only word which comes to mind as I watch her free, uninhibited moment is divine…her laugh is intoxicating, her hair is shiny and gorgeous, and her tiny little body looks even smaller in the oversized barstool she’s sitting on. I suddenly wish it was me making her laugh like that.

I notice the bartender nod in my direction. His movement directs Jen’s attention my way, and instantly her mesmerizing smile fades. Great. Now I look like some creeper piece of shit. I nod in hello to her and make my way to the bar, taking the seat next to her.

“I didn’t realize you would be here,” I tell her as I signal to the bartender to bring me the same as what Jen’s drinking, a Corona with a lime.

Jen looks away from me, refusing to make sociable eye contact. “I’m not sure why I’m here, actually,” she replies before taking a swig of her beer. “I sent the photos to Campbell over a week ago. There really is no reason she should need me here, and she wouldn’t tell me over the phone what she wanted. That never bodes well when it comes to Cam.”

I’m surprised she’s willing to talk to me, even if she refuses to look at me. I take it as a good sign that her hostility toward me has tapered slightly. I want nothing more than to keep her talking so she’ll reveal those golden, honey eyes of hers. If I’m asking for things, I think I would prefer this was a two person meeting and the rest of the band would be no-shows. I can’t even explain why I’m drawn to the girl; she has been nothing but a thorn in my little toe from the moment I met her. For some reason though, I find myself intrigued by her.

“Hellllloooo? Seriously, Casen, do you have some attention disorder I should be made aware of in regard to speaking with you, or are you just that weird?” she asks.

Well, that’s fucking great. She’s caught me ogling over her again, and now I look like the team captain of the varsity douche patrol. On a positive note, at least I finally get to see those honey eyes.

“Um, sorry,” I tell her, shaking my head and focusing down on my beer. “I was just thinking I would go wherever Campbell told me, whenever she told me to do it. That girl has done more for this band in just a few months, than we’ve managed to do on our own in two years. I owe her a lot.”

“Yeah, well, Cam tends to hide things up her sleeve and then put you in a position to try and make you a better person. Usually her plans fuck up your whole day. I suspect nothing less from this little encounter she has planned for us today.”

“What’s so bad about being a good person?”

She swivels in her chair and squares her shoulders toward me, taking one final guzzle of her beer before sliding it to the bartender at the end of the bar. “Nothing is wrong with being a good person, if you already are one. It’s exhausting to pretend to be something you’re not, though. So, I prefer to remain the shell of a person I am, no matter how much Cam wants to change me.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I begin to gawk at her again, searching for the right words. Before I can get out any insightful response, I hear her laugh. She pats me on the arm like the dumbshit I’m acting like.

“Now you can forget about wanting me and move on to some band groupie who would be more than happy to fawn over your morally sound ass.” With that, she jumps off her chair and walks past me, waving to Campbell and the guys who have finally arrived.

I’m left in stunned silence. Instead of jumping up and joining the group right away, I hang back and watch them find a table and sit down. I need a minute to gather my bearings after our brief exchange. I can’t make heads or tails of what she told me, and I can’t decide how I feel about it. A part of me certainly wants to run and get as far away from her as possible. She will chew me up and spit me out, she knows it and I know it. Yet a bigger part of me wants to pursue her, find out more about this extremely complex woman. A woman who actually thinks there is nothing of heart and beauty inside of her. I want to prove to her how she’s wrong about herself. I want to make her see what Campbell sees, a beautiful person who is rough around the edges and tries to protect whatever has been damaged.

I feel their eyes on me, and sure enough, my bandmates, Jen, and Campbell are all watching me from across the restaurant area of the brewery. Everyone has taken a seat at a booth toward the back of the pub. Yet here I sit like a loser once again, daydreaming about a fucking girl who has done nothing except treat me like shit. Nonetheless, I can’t scratch the thought of her out of my head.

As soon as I notice them, I see Jen’s head dip behind a menu to shield herself from me. Campbell looks at me with a little concern and I try to deliver my best, ‘Dude, I’m cool’ look. That is until I see Royce mouth, “What the fuck?” It’s the nudge I need to peel my ass off the barstool and head to the meeting. I admit I’m acting completely out of character; they must all think I’m doped up on something herbal, or maybe I’m showing signs of a stroke. Fucking awesome. I need to get my shit together in the fifty paces it will take to get to the table.

“Fuck, dude, if you’re high, the polite thing to do is share with the group,” Royce chuckles when I finally arrive at the table.

“You’re an asshole,” I shoot back as he stands to let me into the booth. I slide in while they all take turns making some kind of joke and laugh about my odd behavior. Even Jen laughs, her menu bouncing with each giggle.

“Ha, ha, you guys are so damn hilarious. It’s been a long day, that’s all. I’m a little zoned out today.”

“Okay, boys, playtime’s over. I actually brought you here for a reason,” Campbell interjects, crossing her arms on the table and mustering her best business expression. This must be a much more serious business conversation than we all thought.

Everyone sits up a little straighter and zeroes in on Campbell and her announcement…except Jen, who remains glued to her menu. My eyes slowly wander from Jen back to Campbell and back again, in an attempt to gauge both of them.

“After the photo shoot, I had flyers and demos made up to send out to media outlets. I plan on sending record labels the same promotional materials to garner more attention for you guys on this mini-tour coming up,” she begins. Of course, we all nod, as we knew that was the purpose of the shoot.

Campbell’s serious demeanor begins to crack and a devious smile slowly shines through. “Well, let’s just say, you have been well received,” she says before shifting back into serious Campbell mode.

“Jesus, Cam. Just spit it out already,” John sighs, his patience wearing.

“Sorry,” she says with a giggle. “Not only has Sony Records inquired about signing you guys for a record deal after the tour, but they want to have a media exposé featuring the band done as a way to roll out the publicity if you sign with them and begin recording under the label.” She holds her glass up in the air. “Congratulations, boys. You made it!” she squeals.

There is silence for a moment, as we let her words sink in. We sit with our mouths hanging wide open in complete shock. This announcement is the last thing I think any of us were expecting. For me, there are only two things I’ve ever wanted, a record deal and a family. Now that I may have one of those, my heart and mind can barely keep up with the emotions I’m feeling.

“Fuck yeah!” Royce excitedly shouts, breaking the silence and allowing all of us permission to celebrate. We stand, hugging and high fiving each other. There are several moments of celebration, before Jen clears her throat and draws our attention back to the table.

“Congratulations and everything. But, um, why in the hell am I here?” she asks Campbell.

Campbell’s excitement fades and her serious tone takes effect once more. Cool and collected Cam looks nervous. “You see…the thing is…the label really liked the photos you took.” She cringes before continuing with the explanation. Jen begins to catch the drift of what her proposed role is and her brows pull together. “They liked them so much they want the same photographer who took them to follow the band’s shows and take all of the pictures for the exposé.”

Jen vigorously shakes her head. “Not happening. I’m not some band aide from
Almost Famous
. I’m a professional photographer who did you a favor; believe me, my generosity has been stretched to the max in regards to this band.” Her eyes slide to mine as she enunciates the last bit of her sentence. I take the hint. It’s not that she’s done with the band, she’s doesn’t want to have to deal with me.

Fuck that. I can’t let this opportunity slip through our fingers just because neither of us knows how to handle our attraction for each other. While I turn into a bumbling idiot who is one glue lick away from being required to use safety scissors and wear a teddy bear harness backpack, she wants to scare me away as a way to avoid it altogether. I refuse to let her intimidate me. I plan to chisel away at her frozen exterior, one ice chip at a time.

“Jen, can I speak to you alone for a minute?” I ask her. Somehow, I have to convince her we both can be professional and put whatever it is between us on the back burner or extinguish it entirely. She looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. She rolls her whisky brown eyes before sliding out of the booth to stand next to me. The guys move out of our way and she ushers me to lead her away from everyone.

The place is beginning to fill up, so finding a quiet space to talk is nearly impossible. I lead her toward the parking lot, where I at least know we won’t be interrupted. I look back at the guys to signal to them I’ll get everything smoothed out. Royce once again proves himself the king of the dickheads as he dry humps the air. John notices and pushes him back into the booth.

“Oh yeah, how tempting. I can’t wait to join the ranks,” she sneers after witnessing the immature Royce-ism. Yes, we’ve actually named the stupid shit he does; Royce-ism is all we could come up with to cover all of his moments which embarrass the hell out of us.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I lightly place my hand on the small of her back and push her toward the exit. The thin, soft fabric of her cotton dress snags on my callused hand, but I refuse to move away from her. I want to savor this small, physical moment, as it might be the only one I ever get.

When we hit cool air and the open space of the outside, she moves away from me to gain some distance. She veers in the direction of her car, but I grab her hand and pull her toward my truck. She looks at me somewhat conflicted, but continues to follow me.

My truck is parked in the back half of the lot; it’s my baby and I don’t trust the parking skills of the rest of society to not scratch it. I always take extra precautions when it comes to Nelly. Nelly is a black 1956 Ford truck I found at a junkyard, rusted out and missing most of her parts. It took several years and a lot of money, but she is now completely restored.

“Holy shit!” she gasps. “How does a starving musician afford a truck like this?” she asks when we arrive at Nelly.

“I get that a lot,” I smirk. “I said I was a musician, but I never said I was starving,” I tell her as she walks around the truck, admiring each polished and waxed piece until she meets me at the driver’s side door.

“Oh, I get it. You’re a spoiled rich kid who has chosen to follow his artistic talents instead of the family business,” she huffs. The comment couldn’t be further from the truth, and it rubs me the wrong way considering her own upbringing.

I lean up against the side of the truck, careful not to scratch the pristine paint job. “Actually no,” I explain. “I was raised by my grandmother on food stamps in a single-wide trailer. I invested what little money I was making once I left home and I did well for myself. I play guitar because I love it. Don’t take this the wrong way, but isn’t that kind of the pot calling the kettle?”

Her back stiffens and I raise my hands up in surrender. “I don’t mean to piss you off, Jen. It just seems pretty shitty to knock me for possibly having money growing up, when I know you did.”

“Yes, I had money, Casen,” she admits, placing her hands on her hips. “However, while you earned your fortune probably with the support of your family, when I graduated college I walked away from mine. What I have, I earned on my own.”

“You know, we really aren’t too different from one another. If you weren’t so busy protecting the saddle on that high horse of yours, you would see that.”

“High horse? High horse? I’ve only been reacting to your self-absorbed, arrogant comments which you’ve continuously whirled at me since we met. If anyone has been sabotaging any kind of working relationship, it’s you,” she spits back.

If I think about our few encounters, half of the time it was me who egged her on and acted in a manner, which resembled pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground.

“I think we are both at fault, yet I also think there is no reason you can’t take the job. We’re grown-ups, and it’s not like you are going to follow us around like some stalker fan. You’ll show up to gigs, take some pictures, and go home…just like any other photo shoot.”

She begins to mull over her options and, no doubt, her thoughts about me. She then starts moving closer to me, jabbing her finger toward me with each step. “I’m not hanging out with your groupies; I will not photograph any of them. And if you guys, i.e. Royce, can’t keep it decent around me I swear on your shriveled dick I’ll quit.”

Her tirade leaves her only centimeters from me, and I feel her toned body rub against mine with every breath she takes. Her coconut lotion smells so good, I want nothing more than to live in her scent. Towering over her tiny frame, I struggle with my desire to pick her up and spread her out across the hood of Nelly. As much as I want to, I realize it will only complicate our working relationship. Until the tour is over, it’s essential to remain friendly yet contained. Before I commit to my new hands-off policy, I need to send her a similar message. When I see her eyes bounce from my eyes to my lips, I know I have the green light to send my message.