Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(13)
I barge past him into the room. “Jax, please.”
“I’m not doing this much longer, babe.” He unlocks the black metal tin.
“Don’t call me babe.”
“Okay, honey-pie.” Inside the tin rests a pile of banknotes and a piece of paper with a figure written on it. “You’ve almost got enough now, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, apart from I keep having to take from it when he takes my wages.”
“I don’t know why you don’t open a bank account.”
“You know why. Last time Dan found out and took the whole f-ucking lot.” I pull a few notes from the box. “Soon,” I promise him.
Jax catches my arm where my sleeve has ridden up as I stretched my arm out. He pushes up my jacket. Yellowing bruises mar the skin on my forearm and he inhales as he sees them. “Him?”
I snatch my arm away. “Stay out of this.”
“How the f-uck can I? I’m storing money for your escape and I see you several times a week for rehearsals.”
I ignore him and shove the notes into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Have you told him Jem wants to book us some more gigs?” asks Jax.
Jem. My stomach spins at his name. I want to hate him, want him to be the guy I’d formed in my head but he keeps looking at me as if he cares. There’s no getting away from who he is, the face of the man who wrote the music that got me through dark times. I’ve followed his life through the media’s eye, even went to Blue Phoenix gigs so, as with a lot of girls, I closed my eyes and imagined myself with one of the band. When I started playing guitar, Jem became halfway to a hero. Only halfway because as well as being talented, hot as hell, and at the forefront of the band, he’s an *.
Or I thought he was. I’m not sure anymore.
Obviously, he’s not an * to Ruby Riot but look at him with Sara a few days ago, picking her up like that. No, he might have kicked the drugs; but he’s still Jem Jones. And whatever the weird something that hovers unspoken between us, he’s bad news. Dan is convinced Jem’s motives with the band include wanting to f-uck me. Maybe, maybe not. Not going to happen. Jem’s been to three of our gigs so far and when I see the enthusiasm on his face for our sound, I can’t help but surge with pride. Dan’s wrong; we are good. Jem’s approval almost makes me believe I’m worth this. That I can become something special.
Almost.
“No, I haven’t told Dan yet.”
Jax drags a hand through his thick hair. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to back out. f-uck, Ruby.”
“No! No f-ucking way. He’d have to lock me in a room if he wanted to stop me going.”
What flickers across Jax’s blue eyes scares me. Jax believes that’s a possibility.
Chapter Six
Jem
No Bryn tonight. Things have been tense the last few days; my moods piss him off but people in my face telling me what to do pisses me off. After a couple of weeks of clashing, he’s gone home. Bryn hides it but I can tell he’s surprised at my continuing sobriety.
This leaves me alone with Ruby Riot again.
They’ve played a few gigs over the last month, even going as far afield as Wales and I teased the band that Cardiff counted as a European tour. Liam saw them for the first time when we were over there and I think he was impressed. We were both distracted by chicks that night, haven’t had a real chance to talk to Liam about his opinion. Dan the Dickhead comes with us to every gig. I act as if he isn’t here; the f*cker doesn’t know how lucky he is I didn’t smack him that time in the alley. He’s extra loving to Ruby when I’m around, which grates. I’ve seen bruises on Ruby. I tried to talk to her before the gig in Cardiff, but she shut me down. I only tried once; the longing to touch Ruby that seizes my logic whenever she’s close means staying well away is the only option.
Each time I watch Ruby perform, every second I spend around her, the harder it is to shut her out. There’s something about this talented, too tempting woman with her strange personas. The make-up and ink hide some of who she is, the first line of defence against the world. If that doesn’t work in keeping people out, Ruby’s foul mouth and attitude are turned full volume. Thing is, this doesn’t work with me. I can outmatch her because I’ve had years more practice than she has. So when her defences fail, Ruby’s lost around me and retreats to a third persona. Not Ruby, not Tuesday, but somebody fighting to find her way through. I catch glimpses of this girl; I suspect I’m the only one who does. Every time this Ruby appears, she backtracks as if she can’t allow her to be seen, and definitely not around me. The hidden girl is the one I’m freefalling toward, the other girl of my dreams. Dreams about Ruby meld with the nightmares about Liv and that f-ucking terrifies me.
The frustration with the situation doesn’t help when the band piss me off too. I book Ruby Riot a decent sized venue they’d never play if it weren’t for my influence, and they refuse to give me a definite yes until two days before. Apparently, Ruby hasn’t felt well the last couple of weeks and they were waiting to see how she is before committing.
Bullshit.
The reason is with them now; Dan the Dickhead watching everyone set up the equipment, keeping Ruby in sight. In line. Under control. I don’t get it, can’t figure out how this sharp, smart girl allows her life to be dominated by someone else. Why the f-uck do women do this?