Jet (Marked Men, #2)(25)

I felt the anticipation blow across my skin, saw Von and Catcher share a slightly worried look, but before they could stop me, I strummed the opening bars to Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s “Love the One You’re With.” I loved old rock and roll, when songs were written for a reason, and this one seemed to be a perfect fit for my night. I took the bluesy notes, the folksy undertone, and bellowed it out over suddenly screaming guitar riffs. Stephen Stills would be appalled, as I sang with every bit of dissonance I was feeling.

I was singing it directly to her, even if she didn’t know it. The crowd ate it up. The older group was singing along, and the younger kids were embracing it as an anti–love song. By the time I was done, the entire place was electric and the guys in the band were done worrying about me going eruptive and messing everything up.

We blazed through the rest of the planned set and I knew it was a good show. When I threw my guitar pick in the audience after our last song, I saw three girls wrestle each other to the ground to try to collect it, and that was a sure sign of success. We went backstage and I was instantly bummed that I had trashed a perfectly good bottle of whiskey in my rage earlier. I had to settle for doing a shot of tequila with Von and Catcher, while Boone stayed steady and chugged a Red Bull.

Von clapped me hard on the shoulder and looked me straight in the eye. “Want to tell us what the oldies were all about?”

I couldn’t meet his gaze so I picked up my guitar case and shrugged. “You know that I like to mix it up every now and then.”

“True, but why do I get the feeling that was directed at someone specifically? It’s not like you to throw a dedication out there like that.”

He wasn’t wrong. I never dedicated a song to anyone, ever, but tonight I was feeling turned inside out and I couldn’t get a handle on it so I shrugged.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Normally, we had a huge after-party when we played a weekend show, but with Rule and Shaw being all coupled up and Nash and Rowdy surely hooked into whatever girls it was for them tonight, I knew no one was going to be lingering around. The idea of trying to pick up some girl, or more than likely letting some girl pick me up after what had happened with Ayden, made me kind of queasy. I didn’t really want to go to the house, but after killing as much time as I could backstage, I finally had to go. There was no one left to hang out with or tell us how wonderful we had been, so I left and made my way across town to Wash Park, dreading a confrontation with my sexy roommate the entire way.

It was dark when I walked in the front door, but there was a light coming from under Cora’s door. I tried to be quiet as I made my way down the hall to my room, but my combat boots sounded like a heard of buffalo on the old wooden floors. Ayden didn’t stick her head out of her room, which I was both grateful for and seriously annoyed at. After stripping down and showering off all the sex and sweat that clung to me, I went to my room and sat on my bed, rubbing a towel over my head and staring at my closed bedroom door until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled on a pair of black sweats and walked barefoot across the hall to tap on her closed door.

“Ayd? We need to talk.” I waited for a second and frowned when I got no response. Granted we had crossed a major line tonight, but we lived together and were just going to have to figure it out so things weren’t weird or weirder than they already were.

“Ayden, come on. Don’t be like this, open the door so we can talk.” I pounded the door with the side my fist and was seriously contemplating taking the damn thing off the hinges to get at her if I had to, when I heard Cora’s door open and saw her blond head poke out. She was glaring at me, but the effect was kind of lost, considering she had on hot-pink fuzzy pajamas.

“She isn’t here.” She sounded surly and I didn’t like the nasty gleam in her eyes.

“Where is she?” The idea that she might have gone home with that jackass and his idiotic sweater vest made my blood start to explode in my head. I felt my hands curl into fists at my sides and had to concentrate to keep from putting a fist all the way through the door. Cora crossed her arms over her chest and lifted a pale eyebrow at me.

“Do you care?”

I gritted my teeth and counted to ten to avoid shaking her tiny frame like a rag doll. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

“Well, that’s interesting, because she came back from talking to you looking a little . . . manhandled . . . and a whole lot pissed off. Shaw offered to take her home, but she said she wanted to stay and watch the show, that is, until you started with that song. What in the hell were you thinking, Jet? Ayden isn’t a moron. She isn’t one of your groupies who think you’re just perfect because you have a pretty voice and a nice ass. She knew exactly what you were trying to say and it made her flip out.”

I felt my heart lurch in my chest and my throat go tight. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back so that it banged against the bedroom door. “Where did she go?”

“That guy she’s been seeing offered to take her to his place.” I bit out a swear word so loud I saw her start. “Chill out. She told him no and said she would figure it out, but lucky you, Rowdy is an awesome friend and he swooped in to play knight in shining armor. She went home with him, and hopefully you’ll take this time to get your head removed from your ass, because if you don’t, I’m going to take that ring I put through the tip of your junk and do things to it that will make you cry every time you even think about having sex. I don’t know what’s going on with either one of you, but knock it off.”