Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(23)

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Placing my bag on the floor, I catch sight of a note on the kitchen counter. Scrawled in black marker pen is a list:

No drugs

No alcohol

Don’t ever wake me up

Don’t touch my stuff

With amusement, I read the list several times. I guess this is Jem Jones’s equivalent of a housemate agreement.

Is that what I am? What is this situation? Once we figured out Dan was working, Jax took me to grab some stuff from Dan’s place. Tucked in the holdall is my black tin, the savings for my escape plan. I’m going to need it sooner than I expected. I count and I have enough to see me through the weeks where I can’t work due to the tour. Then after the tour, I can look for a place to live. I almost have enough for a deposit on a room.

Jem suggests I stay for a couple of weeks until Ruby Riot goes on tour, so I can take time to get my head together. His behaviour is weird and the niggling feeling Jem wants something worries me. The idea Dan could find me at the guys’ place is a bigger worry, so I accept Jem’s offer and settle into the spare room he gave me last night. There’s dust on the drawers and the place looks untouched. I guess Jem doesn’t have regular guests. The wardrobe is empty and I don’t bother hanging anything up, dumping my holdall on the floor instead.

When I head back into the living area, I spot Jem sitting on a stool in the kitchen, flicking through his phone.

“Hey,” he says, barely glancing at me.

I attempt to take in the sight of bad boy Jem Jones tucking into something the opposite of his old image.

“You’re eating yoghurt,” I say.

“Yeah? Why? Did you want some?”

I giggle. “Jem Jones eating yoghurt.”

He slams the pot on the counter. “Why is that f-ucking funny?”

Okay, so the temper is still there. “Sorry, it’s just strange.”

He scowls and I grasp for a subject change. “I got your housemate agreement.”

“My what?”

I pull the A4 sheet from under a pile of mail and push it toward him.

“That? Just a list of shit.” Jem focuses on his phone again.

“I wouldn’t bring drugs into the house; you didn’t need to write that.”

He rubs his nose. “Cigarettes.”

“What?”

He points at the list with his spoon. “I didn’t write those down. I’m trying to stop, so no smoking in the house.” He catches my look. “I have a garden. Go out there.”

“Right.”

Jem scrolls back through what he was looking at and continues to eat. At least I don’t need to worry about him interfering; currently it appears he wants nothing to do with me. I should be happy this allays my fears, but the girl who craves attention lurks close by.

“I need to shop if I’m staying. Did you want anything?”

Jem blinks at me. “What do you mean?”

“Shopping. Groceries.” I point at his tub. “More yoghurt.”

I cringe. I shouldn’t have teased because pissing this guy off isn’t a good idea when he’s helping me. Jem makes a soft snort of amusement and shakes his head. “I’m good. I have plenty of yoghurt.”

Conversation over, I head out into the fresh summer air, dizzied by the surreal situation and on edge in case Dan lurks nearby. When I return, Jem’s no longer around and music filters from upstairs. The house has three storeys and Jem’s living area appears to be at the top. The second floor, where the other bedrooms are, also holds the kitchen and a lounge area, which includes a huge TV and the sofa I slept on last night.

I unpack the few groceries I bought. I don’t eat a lot, more than I did when I counted every calorie and obsessed about my weight, but now I’m skinny because I don’t have an appetite. I forget to eat much of the time rather than choosing not to. Alcohol fills the gaps, but I won’t be drinking any of that if I’m here.

I retreat to my room and pull out my guitar. Time to lose myself in my other world; in the place, I’m safe from Dan.





Chapter Eleven



Jem



Ruby’s lived here three days and I hardly see her. We cross paths in the kitchen or lounge and exchange pleasantries, but it’s f-ucking weird. I’m aware she doesn’t leave the house much unless Jax is with her, but if I so much as touch on the subject of Dan, Ruby closes down. If Dan came here to find her, I’d break his f-ucking legs.

I don’t go out much either, I’m enjoying the down time and peace. I never thought I’d say that, but I’ve finally listened to my body and the professionals insisting I do. After a morning in the upstairs lounge, the place nobody goes, I head downstairs to grab something to eat. For once, Ruby’s out of her bedroom and in the lounge, watching TV and eating a bowl of noodles. I head over and sit on the sofa arm next to her. Ruby watches me cautiously. The cut on her lip is healing but the dark bruise still covers her cheek, the others around her neck yellow.

“You feeling better?” I ask.

“Yeah. How are you?”

“Yeah.”

Awkward conversation over, she returns to her noodles. The familiar smell of spice and salt hits me. “Are you eating the instant crap? I lived on those. They taste like shit.”