Crashed Out (Made in Jersey, #1)(54)

And God, he made her feel so much.

It hadn’t felt right kissing him in the parking lot. Not when he thought she’d let him go without a fight. God, he’d already looked haunted, his kisses feeling so final. Tonight. She would tell him tonight. When they weren’t in a freezing parking lot, being peeped on by passersby in the parking lot.

Jasmine eased out of her coat and took a spot at the rear of the hall, just in time for Old News to walk on stage. A low thrumming started in her belly at seeing Sarge in his official front man capacity. Already he was a sexy, charismatic package, but it was amplified when he picked up his guitar. He played a few strings, winking at the crowd when they howled in response. Then he found her through the crowd and made a growling sound into the microphone.

Dios. As soon as this party ended, she was taking him home and rocking his ever-loving world. The neighbors might even call the police.

Let them.

“Okay, this first song is for my niece, Marcy, the coolest kid in Hook.” He smiled down at the front row, where all the children, including Marcy, were lined up. “Did you guys know she taught me how to play the guitar?”

A chorus of laughter went up, from the children and parents alike. Several mothers relaxed a little when it became obvious Sarge and Old News would be making the show kid-friendly. Jasmine’s smile widened when he launched into an acoustic version of “Frosty the Snowman,” signaling to his bandmates to come in on the second verse, since clearly the band hadn’t rehearsed. Somehow that made it even more special. When a man leaned against the wall beside Jasmine, she recognized him from being in the parking lot with Sarge. He was tall, with a slight dusting of salt and pepper at his temples and stress lines around his eyes, but he couldn’t have been older than thirty-five. Handsome in a hard, distinguished way. Against a backdrop of ill-fitting Christmas sweaters, his polished appearance stood out, making him look more suitable for a polo match than a casual church function.

“Merry Christmas,” Jasmine murmured, unable to stop herself from facing the stage, where Sarge was now using his fingers to mimic antlers. “How do you know Sarge?”

The man followed her line of vision and dipped his chin. “I manage Old News. Although I’m not sure who’s managing who anymore.” He extended a hand. “I’m James Brandon. Nice to meet you.”

Jasmine shook James’s hand, seeing him in a new light. This man had spent years on the road with Sarge, probably making a boatload of cash in the process. How would he feel when Sarge decided to stay in Hook? “Nice to meet you, too.”

They were quiet for a time, but there was an air of discomfort between them. She could feel James building up to something and started to excuse herself, somehow knowing she wouldn’t want to know, but he beat her to the punch. “Look. Jasmine.” He straightened his collar. “I’m going to be blunt with you. If tonight turned out to be the final time Old News played together, I wouldn’t try to talk them out of it. I could walk away.” A glance toward the stage, specifically the drummer. “From most of it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

James appeared to be choosing his words. “It was impossible to live with Sarge and not be aware of his feelings for you. He wears them like clothes. They’re in every song, in the background noise of every interview.” The manager nodded toward the stage. “He’d give it all up in a heartbeat for you. And if it were me…before I let him do that, I would want to know exactly what giving it up means.”

Her lips felt numb, but she forced the words out, already knowing nothing would be the same when James finished speaking. “Tell me.”

“The new contract would mean another full album by summer. A world tour to promote it.” The manager looked like he’d swallowed something made of spikes. “We’ve been traveling on a bus until now, but the new contract would mean private jets. No more questionable motels or small venues. It’s the next level. And since we’re free agents at the moment, so to speak, they’ve quadrupled their offer to make us sign.”

If the ground cracked in half and sucked her in just then, Jasmine would have gone happily. A host of emotions fought for precedence inside her. Disgust at herself for considering asking Sarge to remain in Hook, thus relinquishing the multitude of opportunities yet to come. Gratefulness to James for being honest with her, because Jasmine knew—without a doubt—Sarge never would have told her the facts. Lastly, she felt a freezing shower of sorrow and loss, soaking her down to the skin. “I can’t let him pass that up,” she managed. “The whole band would lose out, too.”

“If I may make a suggestion?” When she nodded, James swiped a hand down his jaw. “Just make him a part of the decision. Don’t cut him out.”

Jasmine watched the manager stride away with a mixture of dread and shock. Don’t cut him out. But what choice did she have? She’d let her newfound confidence make her selfish, let it blind her to what would matter to Sarge. Oh God, it would kill her to let him leave, especially after deciding to give their relationship a chance, but it was the right thing. She’d gotten stuck in Hook, but no way in hell would she be the reason for Sarge doing the same. It had to end. It had to be tonight, before she gave him any false hope.

Sarge had brought some children up on stage to dance, but his gaze cut to hers swiftly, making Jasmine wonder if she’d called his name out loud. Her sinking heart must have been obvious, because his indulgent smile slipped in response. Unable to stand being this close to him and knowing what was to come, Jasmine wove through the crowd and beelined for the ladies’ room.