Rock Bottom (24 page)

“Thanks, but I’m exhausted.” His touch made her shudder, and not in a good way. “I have to finish up the blog and then…” She shrugged.

Slouching, he shoved open the door. “Yeah. Maybe some other time.”

You really know how to leave ’
em
laughing.
“Maybe tomorrow night?”

He brightened. “Yeah. Sounds great.” The words curled from his throat, and his brow twitched upward as if in anticipation.

Oh, why did I open my mouth?
She’d think of an excuse tomorrow. Tonight, she had work to do. On the walkway, she concocted complimentary captions for the photos. Maybe that would appease the bimbos.

Opening the door, the cottage seemed so tiny now. Confining.

The laptop powered up at her touch, and she downloaded the digital pictures. Seeing them from the cocoon of the cottage sent a shudder over her. She’d climbed Apes Wall. Exuberance buoyed her all over again. Exhilarated, she first posted the photos of Jet with some links back to park history. Movie buffs would love the cinematic connection. Others would drool over Jet’s bulging muscles in his tight tank and exercise shorts. The entry ran long with so many photos.
Maybe I should leave out mine. After all, I’m not part of the show.
She couldn’t stop staring at the photo of her and Jet, smiling, leaning heads together, victory in both expressions, but body language conveying something else too. Clinging to one another, yet also balancing each other. Mutual dependence--that’s what she needed in a relationship. She knew Jet could never be that other half, the one to hold her up when she most needed it, for whom she could do the same without hesitation. Not really. This photo represented only a moment in time with him. Though it was a nice dream. A really nice dream.

Yes, she’d post it. If only to remind herself. From now on, she wouldn’t settle for any less.

Not long after she’d uploaded it online, her cell buzzed, and Zinta’s name displayed.

“Zin, I’m so glad you called. I’ve had such an amazing day.”

“Are you out of your freaking head? Why would you do such a thing?”

“Oh. You’ve seen the blog I take it.” Smug satisfaction filled her as she settled back on the sofa.

“Are you addle-brained?”

Hmm. Possibly. She wouldn’t alarm Zin with that admission. “For the same reason everyone else does it. To conquer my fears.”

“Seems like living with fear is a saner alternative.”

“It was incredible. I’ve never felt that…powerful.” The rush of victory came back to her anew.

“I have to get you out of there. The sun is bleaching your brain cells. You haven’t gone blonde, have you?”

“Do I look blonde in the photos?” A giggle buoyed her up, and nervous energy made her pace.

“You’re sounding somewhat blondish.”

“It’s not as if I’m taking it up as a hobby. I did it once, and now I can move on, feet firmly on the ground.” She wouldn’t mention her head, still up in the clouds.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Something about the way Zin sounded focused her attention on her friend. “You sound tired. Everything all right?” Some friend she was, so high on her climb she’d forgotten Zin’s troubles.

“I suppose. Everything’s weird. You’re away, Caleb’s gone, work’s not even fun anymore.” Zin sighed.

“Tell me about it.” Her work consisted of following a bunch of bimbos and reporting on their scintillating activities. Like shopping.

“Sorry. I keep forgetting you have the worst of it.”

After today, Billie could no longer make that claim. Guilt returned for her worsening friendship skills. “So you and Caleb still aren’t speaking?”

“No. He hates me, as well he should. I will never allow myself to be in that position again. Let that be a lesson to you.”

“Mmm.” Although she could think of a few positions she’d like to be in with Jet, Zin’s warning came as a timely reminder. “Hey, my nervous system’s about to crash. I should head to bed.”

“No more cliff climbing,” she admonished.

“No, none.” Unfortunately.

* * * *

Climbing had exhausted the contestants. As Jet had hoped.

Restlessness kept him awake. The house closed in on him, so he strolled to the cottage. Was she still wired from the high like him?

He stood on the doorstep, deciding whether to knock. Without her, it would have been just another climb. Meaningless. She made everything worthwhile. Made him yearn to share every detail with her.

Talk to her. Find out how she feels.
He raised his hand to knock, and the light winked out.

Footsteps sounded, sending him down the walkway in a hurry. He’d play a while. Work on some songs. Prove she was wrong about him.

The studio echoed when he flipped the light switch. From the guitars lining the wall, he selected the vintage Martin D-45 acoustic. One of only ninety-one in the world. Some paid as much as $135,000, but he’d won his from Clapton in a blackjack game. It had seen him through the early years, and he valued it for its memories as much as its quality sound. Under his touch, it practically came alive.

Tonight, he only drew the sound of a sickly wailing animal from it. Unable to play worth a damn, he went back to the house.

Television couldn’t hold his interest either, so he pressed the
off
button on the remote and let the sound of the waves lull him.

Billie opened the bag of coffee grounds and found less than a scoop. She’d have to venture to the house. If Jet hadn’t haunted her thoughts all night, she wouldn’t need caffeine so badly. Taking the biggest mug in the cabinet, she crept outside. Women’s laughter sounded near the pool. They might be swimming. She’d go around front.

When she went inside, Stu and Cindy’s voices echoed down the hall, so she tiptoed through the dining room to the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief. Empty. Despite rehearsing in her head how she’d flash a curt smile and make a hasty exit, she knew if she ran into Jet, he’d look at her with those baby blues and…

“Billie.”

Hearing his voice, she stiffened, but kept moving.
Get coffee and go.

Footsteps padded behind her. “I’m glad I ran into you. How are you feeling today?”

“Fine.”
Keep your head down.

“No sore muscles?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw him lean across the counter. “Oh. A little, yeah.”
Don’t look at him.
Sipping, she nodded.

“At least you kept your balance and didn’t slam into the wall.” He smiled.

Damn.
She looked at his eyes. “Or fall to my death.” Shucking her resolve, she smiled. Why did he always have to look so good?

His voice nearly a whisper, he said, “I’ve been thinking--”

“Billie. Hey.” Justin strode in the backdoor and poured a cup of coffee. “Don’t forget about tonight. I have a special treat planned for you.” He winked.

Tonight! She hadn’t had time to make up an excuse. “Uh…”

Jet glanced from Billie to Justin and back.

“I should be finished by nine thirty. Danny’ll take over from there.”

“Oh, uh…”
Think of something!

“Just knock.” With a sly grin, he strode out.

Straightening, Jet scratched his chin. “Guess I’ll…” He lifted a hand and pivoted toward the hall.

“Jet…”

Halting, he turned, expectancy in his eyes.

Her breath stilled.
Let him go.

Her cell buzzed.
Damn.
Couldn’t anyone leave them alone? She blurted, “Thanks. For yesterday.”

Frowning, he blinked hard, then gave a single nod and turned, his gait slower but somehow more determined.

Yes, she’d just made sure he’d leave her alone now.
It’s what you wanted.

She opened her cell without checking. Everett asked, “What the hell is going on there?”

“‘Hell’ encompasses about everything going on here.”

“Are you so desperate to leave you’ve gone suicidal?”

The climb. “No. Just trying new things.”

His laugh sounded incredulous. “I never would have guessed. I’m proud of you. But if you try anything crazier, I’ll bring you home.”

“No.” The coffee tasted bitter, so she dumped it into the sink. “I mean, you said readers liked my posts, and sales are up. I should stay and see this through.”

“Babe. Is something else going on I should know about?”

I’m not your babe.
“Yeah. I’m still waiting for you to assign me a local concert. I need new music. So help me God, Everett, if you don’t come up with something soon, I’ll go insane.” Had she covered well enough? His silence made it difficult to tell.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Bye.” She switched off her cell, distracted by Ashley emerging from the corner of the pool to sit on the side. She squealed, so Billie moved to the French doors to see what was going on.

* * * *

Jet sat on a chaise in the shade, playing his guitar. One of the songs he’d been working on. The middle had eluded him before, but it flowed now. He had to imprint the tune in his memory, so he played it again and again until it felt right. The guitar hummed with life, and the song came together.

Yeah, how much better could life get? The bitter thought drew a sharp chord.

Danny pointed his videocamera at him, but he knew better than to expect this scene to make it on air. Likely it’d never leave the editing room.

Justin trained his camera at the girls. The money shots, Stu called them.

What the hell did she see in Justin? The guy boasted about women like possessions. He’d make a better rock star than videographer.

Billie’s presence intensified his playing, as it intensified everything else for him. She took a seat at the table in the alcove, her gaze searing into him. She loved music. If he could win her with his songs, he’d play all day.

Stu walked to where she sat and frowned in his direction, and said something to Billie. The next time Jet glanced up, Stu’s frown had deepened. It must have dawned on him Jet played something new. Obviously, he didn’t like it.

Fuck him.
Rock Bottom
was his show not Stu’s. Jet played with greater intensity, immersed in the music, fingers squeaking along the strings until the finish. Oh yeah. It felt good. He’d captured the essence of what he aimed for, and now had the song down.

As he fingered the strings in a ditty, Stu waved Brianna in his direction. She slid out of the pool and sashayed toward him, dripping. He murmured in her ear, and her eyes grew wide. Smiling, she flitted back to the pool and jumped in. The splash arced in Jet’s direction. Without missing a beat, he played on as he stood to move to a chaise farther away from the pool.

Stu’s nostrils flared. He signaled to Brianna. Reaching behind her back, she unhooked her top and swung it over her head with a whoop. Justin crouched, camera zoomed at her boobs.

Glancing at Billie, her look of disgust suggested she had no part in this. Unless that too was part of it. These days, he had no clue what was real and what wasn’t.

Standing, Jet held his guitar and raked his fingers through his hair. “What the hell?”

When they laughed and splashed at him, he strode to Stu. “This is complete bullshit.”

Stu chuckled. “Viewers will eat it up.” From his tone, Stu wanted to be in on the feast.

Backing away, Jet shrugged. “The FCC will yank the show. Not that I’d mind.”

Saddened at the betrayal, his gaze met Billie’s before he turned away. In seconds, he was at his studio. His only sanctuary.

* * * *

“What a stupid bimbo.” Billie clucked her tongue in disgust, then realized Stu had wanted her to do it. Asked her, in fact, to interrupt Jet’s playing. If he debuted his new material on
Rock Bottom
, his career wouldn’t stay at rock bottom for long.

“You ass,” she hissed at him.

He glared. “Careful, Miss Prescott.” Not so clownish now, Stu looked downright menacing, his lip curled in a snarl.

“Why are you holding him back? He needs to evolve--”

Stu stiffened. “Jet’s none of your business. You better remember that.”

“Maybe you better remember he’s no good to you unless he’s doing what makes him happy.”

A gleam lit his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, either.”

She held herself in check. Later, she’d look into what Stu might be up to. Whatever it was, she’d bet money it wouldn’t be to Jet’s benefit.

When Jet left, a flash of acknowledgment lit Stu’s face. These antics went beyond wardrobe malfunctions. Sliding his finger across his neck, he approached Danny. “Psst. Cut it.”

Billie grabbed her camera and got in a few shots that managed to escape Stu’s notice. So what if he raised a fuss? He’d initiated this mess.

Lying low for the rest of the day, Billie kept to the fringes out of harm’s way. And the bimbos. Justin, however, presented another matter. No matter where she went, she ran into him.

It’s a small environment. Of course there’s no avoiding him.

Retreating to the table, she pulled up a wicker chair and texted Zinta she almost felt as if Justin stalked her.
Ridiculous, right? I mean, we’re all stuck here together in this waking nightmare.

Zin replied almost immediately.
Maybe not. If your instincts send up a red flag, pay attention. If he’s bothering you, tell him to back off.

No, a little too flirty, but harmless.

Ah ha. That’s it. He’s out to bed you, my dear.

No more than any other guy. And like I said, we’re stuck here. He’s probably as bored as me.
Though he never appeared bored, zooming in on the bimbos’ boobs. He especially seemed to like to film Brianna, and she, of course, always played to the camera.

Still, Zinta’s blind observation niggled at the heart of what bothered her about him. In this microcommunity, Justin was the only one who’d lend a willing ear. Sure, he might want to lend other willing body parts, but she’d let him know she needed a friend most of all.

The contestants toweled off and went inside to change. Justin jogged over. “Hey, Jet’s taking the girls to LA.”

“Really? He made a quick recovery.”

“Come along, it’ll be fun.” Leaning his elbows on the table, he nudged his shoulder into hers, his head angled close.