Rock Bottom (29 page)

She kept her gaze ahead. “Yeah, actually. I have to go get a new digital recorder. Mine crapped out.”

“I’ll take you.” What was he saying? He couldn’t leave.

Her pace grew brisk. “No, thank you. The taxi’s here.”

Grasping her arm, he tugged her to a halt. “What’s wrong?”
Wrong question, shithead.
What
went
wrong?

She slipped from his hold, and concentrated on the driveway. “Nothing. I have work to do. And you have three women to keep happy, so all’s right with the world.”

“Are you seriously mad about the other night?” Incredulousness replaced feigned pleasantness. Everything had gone to crap after he kissed her. Or after Stu showed up. Fucking Stu.

With a haughty laugh, she tossed her hair. “No. No, the other night was great. I almost throw myself at you, and you throw yourself at three crazy bimbos. Happy ending for everyone.”

He lurched ahead. “Did you want me to step aside? Let them scratch your eyes out? I’m pretty sure that’s what might have happened.”

“I have to go. I need a new recorder for tonight.” She winced as if in regret.

His senses pricked to alert. “What’s tonight?”

“I’m…going somewhere.” From her attitude, anywhere but here was great.

“Where?” Another assignment? To see another guy? His blood sizzled.

She blurted, “Just out. To see a band.” With a groan, she fast-forwarded her gait to a sprint to the end of the driveway.

Excitement made it easy for him to keep pace. “Great. I’d love to see a band.” Especially with her.

Halting, she whirled to face him. “No, you can’t go. Isn’t this your date night with Julie?”

“So? We’ll all go.” He couldn’t give a shit about Julie.

“I’d rather go alone. I’ll be working.” She pressed the button for the gate. Repeatedly.

Stepping in front of her, he set his hands on his hips. “I’ll go there anyway then. But wouldn’t the magazine prefer you to tag along? It would save a taxi expense.”

When she bit her lip, he could almost see her manufacture excuses in her mind.

Her chin jutted out. “I don’t want to upset Julie.” She sidestepped around him.

To block her path, he thrust out his arm. “She’d love for you to come along.” He could be every damn bit as stubborn.

Her jaw clenched. “Perfect.”

He couldn’t hold back a smile. “Perfect. See you tonight.”

After yanking the cab door open, she slammed it so hard the driver yelled, “Hey.”

With a chuckle, he watched her sink into the seat. The taxi roared off.

When she glanced back, Jet’s grip tightened on the gate.

Tonight.

He finally had something to look forward to.

* * * *

Billie cursed herself. How could she be so idiotic? So many verbal fumbles in so little time.
No wonder you’re not a TV anchor. You say all the wrong things. To the wrong people.
Lack of sleep made her extremely witty too.

Could Jet be any more of a presumptuous jerk? Oh yeah, she’d love to go on his date with Julie. Because her dream had always been to be part of a threesome with him. She needed no further reminder of her place in his world--her nonexistent place.

His smugness tweaked her annoyance to high pitch. Her intention in going out was to get away from him, not spend more time with him.

She stifled a tortured groan.

Tonight would be a perfect hell, like the last few months had been. Destined to repeat, apparently, until she’d suffered sufficiently for her sins--whatever awful sins she’d committed to merit this sort of punishment, she had no clue.

Paying the driver, she climbed out in relief, glad to get away from the Jet asylum for a day. But still reliving his kiss like a recurring nightmare.

One she’d love to relive in reality. The feel of his weight atop her in his bed. She dreamed of wrapping her legs around his and…

“Watch it.” A boy whizzed by on his skateboard.

With no time to react, she halted. “Sorry.”
Wake up,
Willamina
.

Browsing through the electronics store, she expected to see Jet at every turn. He must have waited for her today. Seemed so damn eager to talk to her.

Guilt plagued her. Of course he’d diverted the Bimbo Trio to save her. Her angry self retorted:
What else did he do to divert them?
Her hurt self whined:
Why would he leave with them and not me?
None of her selves wanted to face him tonight, so she stayed away until the last possible moment.

When the taxi dropped her off again outside the gate, she considered changing her clothes quickly and calling for another ride before Jet spied her. The walkway was deserted, the house quiet. If she hurried, she might be able to pull it off.

After a quick shower, she threw on the purple sundress, remembering how Jet couldn’t keep his eyes from wandering down her curves last time she wore it. If she had to be in hell, she’d drag him along. This time, she had strappy silver sandals to go with it. Hastily adding a silver necklace, bracelet and earrings, she grabbed her bag and threw open the door.

Standing on her doorstep, Jet’s mouth dropped open. As his gaze slid downward, his voice thickened. “I just wanted to let you know we’re ready.”

“Oh. Great. Me too.” She slammed sunglasses onto her face. Grrr. A few seconds earlier, she could have dodged him. Bastard. Gorgeous too, dammit. Probably knew his light blue shirt made his eyes stand out even more.

Grinning, he cocked his head.

Two could play at the sweetness and light game. Hesitating as they walked, she put her best polite self forward. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I really hate to impose.”

His hand at the small of her back guided her toward the limo. “No imposition. You may as well ride in the limo with us. Danny will follow in the van.”

“Right.” She had no desire to ride with Danny. His glares had long ago grown old, and she hadn’t even introduced herself to Justin’s replacement. He too acted as if she was poison and avoided her.

Once in the limo, she seated herself behind the driver. Julie took a place by the window, and Jet sat opposite. His knee relaxed in Julie’s direction. Billie tensed. Would she have to witness their small talk? What if Julie flirted with him? Kissed him? Why had Billie agreed to this? She should have taken a cab. Hopefully the ride would be mercifully short.

To busy herself, she pulled out her cell and texted Zinta.
Off to my assignment. Same music, different location.

Her phone buzzed. Zinta replied:
Got you out of the house and away from Jet. Have fun. Do something I’d do.

Billie’s fingers flew.
Only one out of two. I’m with him.

The reply came swiftly:
What? Why? I take it back, don’t do anything I’d do.

She chuckled.
No worries. Talk to you later.

Glancing up, Julie stared out the window.

Jet stared at Billie. “Working already?”

She couldn’t hold in a haughty huff. “I have a life. Or I used to, before I came here.”

She caught his arched brows, though hidden by sunglasses and bangs, and hoped she’d deterred him.

He leaned an elbow against the door and touched a finger to his lips. “Heard good buzz about this band?”

“Some, yeah.” She didn’t have the heart to say they were a Jet wannabe band.

“The venue’s nice, anyway. The acoustics are great because it’s small.”

The limo began to feel very small with him directing his conversation at her instead of Julie. A nod was Billie’s only response.

Julie turned to him. “Could I have a drink?”

Jet leaned forward. “Sure. What would you like?”

“Do you have any wine?” Julie raked her fingers through her long hair.

Why hadn’t she raised a fuss at Billie’s presence? The only contestant who couldn’t be classified a bimbo, she should be smart enough to find ways around Billie to get to Jet. If that’s what she really wanted.

Jet pulled out two glasses. “Billie?”

“Yes, thanks.” One would help release the tension.

After pouring, he held up his. “To great music.”

They touched together with a clink. Billie gulped and prayed the ride would end soon.

Julie made small talk about the band, the magazine. Jet extended his leg, his foot within inches of Billie’s.

When the limo rounded a turn and came to a halt, she released a breath. She needed air.

* * * *

Jet waited for Billie and Julie to exit the limo, and followed them inside. The doorman greeted them with a smile. “Mr. Trently. Your table’s ready, sir.”

A petite woman led them up dark stairs and onto a balcony, then asked for their orders.

Tonight he’d splurge. “Bring us a bottle of your best champagne.”

“Water for me, please.” Billie moved to a seat near the rail.

Danny would probably stand in the doorway, taping Jet and Julie, and catching video of the band playing on the stage beyond. Unfortunately, it meant Billie would have to stay out of sight. No matter. Jet’s chair sat less than a foot from hers.

The girl returned with a bucket and stand. After popping the cork, she poured.

Jet urged the flute at Billie. “Come on, we need to toast.”

Despite her look of surprise, she accepted it.

Holding his glass aloft, he said, “To finding our soul mates.”

Flashing a wry smile, Billie sipped.

Jet downed his drink and refilled it. “I can’t wait to hear these guys play. I haven’t heard another band in much too long.”

Billie took out her new recorder and fiddled with the buttons.

“Relax.” Jet refilled her flute to the rim, though she sipped slowly. He wanted to celebrate. With Billie. He’d have to pretend with Julie, though as usual, she acted reserved and seemed more interested in the people around them.

The house lights dimmed and the audience applauded. The band took the stage, and the spotlights came up, framing each.

The lead singer thanked them. “I understand we have a special guest tonight. Someone whose music inspired our own. Mr. Jet Trently.” He gestured toward the balcony, and the spotlight swung on him.

“What the…” Jet stood and waved, bowed his head and took his seat. Nice of them to acknowledge him. Excitement shone in Billie’s face, but Julie excused herself. Be nice if she’d just disappear.

On cue, the spotlight dimmed and the band launched into their first set.

From the first beat, the song captured his attention. The music riveted him. Excited him. Reminded him why he worked in this fickle industry. Great music gave him a high like no other.

True, their sound mimicked Jet’s, only updated and revitalized. Obviously, he’d been a heavy influence. It both excited and saddened him. These guys carried on his work. The work he should be doing himself.

After each song, Jet clapped and whistled. After the third song, Jet leaned back. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, pretty good,” Billie said. “Not as good as you.”

Surprise made him blow through his lips. “Here, have more champagne.” He realized Julie’s seat remained empty. Good. Maybe she’d fulfill his wish.

The lead singer leaned away from the mic to talk to the guitar player, and then the keyboard player. Each nodded. The singer grabbed the mic. “Thanks so much. Many of you know we wouldn’t be here tonight if it weren’t for Jet Trently. Jet, we’d be honored if you’d join us onstage.”

Delight buoyed him, but he held his hands to his chest in question.

The singer waved him down. Jet needed no further invitation. Playing with this band would be a thrill.

The hostess appeared in the doorway. “Follow me, Mr. Trently.”

Glancing at Billie, he hesitated.

“Well, go on.” She smiled. “Go cut loose.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Thank God she understood. He almost sprinted down the steps. The spotlight engulfed him when he jogged onto the stage. A cheer went up from the audience. One of the best sounds in life. He gave a casual wave.

The singer clasped his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Jet nodded. “Hey, thank you.”

When the band exploded in one of Jet’s songs, he sang along as if they’d spent months rehearsing. The harmonies sounded tight, and his performance rocketed to the level of his early days. The band segued into another Jet tune, and he picked it up without flaw.

* * * *

Billie couldn’t tear away her gaze. Jet came alive on stage like she’d never seen him. The music’s raw energy sizzled along her nerve endings. Enthralled her, made her want to move, get inside it, get lost in it.

At the end of the set, the audience thundered its applause, standing. Jet bowed and exited gracefully, returning command of the stage to the band. Their next song sounded lackluster in comparison.

Julie slipped in just before the hostess appeared in the doorway and Jet entered, fists clenched in victory. When he smiled at Billie, the balcony buzzed with revitalized energy.

He caught the employee before she left. “Another bottle of champagne.” He turned to Billie. “Did I sound all right?”

“Are you kidding? You made them sound a hundred times better.” Imitations never outshone the original.

“No, they’re incredible. So much better than me.”

“That’s not true.” How could he doubt himself after the standing ovation?

The hostess returned with the champagne and popped the cork.

Jet instructed her to pour three, and emptied his glass. “Oh, man, it feels great to make music. This is reality. Bringing the songs alive in front of an audience. Getting them excited. Connecting with their energy.” Staring at Billie, his eyes blazed with heat.

Aware of Danny’s camera aimed at him, she drew back.

He glanced back. “Hey, turn that thing off. Call it a day, will you?”

The light dimmed. Danny lowered the video. “If you say so. I’m outta here.”

Julie shifted in her seat. “Maybe I should go too.”

Startled, Billie blurted, “What? No. I should. I’m intruding on your date--”

Jet’s voice rose. “It’s not a date.”

Julie slid her handbag from the table. “I’m really tired. Wait up, Danny.”

Jet tugged Billie’s chair closer. “Don’t make me feel like a total loser. Sit up here with me.”