Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(13)

Lola snorted. “Hell no. Not with sixty grand worth of ticket sales on the line.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll tell Jimmy you’re okay but maybe… I don’t know, Kace. You might want to lay low for a couple of hours. At least until Jimmy gets over his own hangover. I mean, to be fair, everyone was pretty wasted last night.” Now I could hear a small smile on my friend’s lips. “It was an epic show. Epic.”

“Was it?”

“Oh girl, you don’t even know. We’re on the verge of mega stardom and you’re missing it. No, you’re almost wrecking it.”

“But I didn’t, right?”

“Nope. The show must go on.” Lola sighed again. “Get some rest. Sober up for tonight’s show. You’re still good to go, right?” she asked, and I could hear the warning tone in her voice. This wasn’t just my big break, but hers too.

“Sure,” I said weakly. “Thanks, Lola. And tell Jimmy—”

“That you’re sorry? Yeah, yeah. Time for some new material, Kace. Talk to you later.”

I handed the phone back to Jonah. “Thanks.”

“Are the cops going to be busting in the door any minute now?” he asked darkly. “Or am I going to lose my job? Or both?”

“No. Well…maybe.”

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Maybe which?”

Shame and humiliation flushed my skin red. “The second one. Listen, I’ll talk to your boss at the limo place…” I started as Jonah bolted out of his chair with a curse.

He ignored me and began jabbing at his phone.

“Harry? It’s me, Jonah. I—” He shot me a glare as he listened to whatever was being said on the other end.

I held my aching head in my hands as Jonah tried to explain the situation. Finally, a cell phone appeared in my line of sight.

“Would you mind telling my boss why I couldn’t finish the job last night?” Jonah asked tightly.

“Yeah, sure.” I took the phone. “Um…Hi. Harry, is it? I’m Kacey. From Rapid Confession. I had…a bad night and Jonah was nice enough to let me crash on his couch. Nothing happened,” I added, prompting a strange look from Jonah. “He wanted to go back to pick up the rest of my band but I wasn’t doing so hot. He took care of me. Okay?”

Harry promised not to fire Jonah and barked that he wanted the limo back, ASAP. Then he hung up.

Jonah glared at me. “Well?”

“You’re not fired. But Harry wants the limo back. Like, now.”

He nodded. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. I’ll take you back to your band’s house on the way.”

“Um…” I plucked at a stray thread on the afghan.

“What?” Jonah snapped. “You heard my boss. I gotta return the damn car.” He cocked his head at me. “Don’t you need to get back?”

No, I thought. I really don’t. I just wasn’t up to facing it. None of it. Not yet.

I offered Jonah a weak smile. “The aspirin hasn’t made a dent in this headache. Would it be okay with you if I took a nap while you take the limo back? I’ll call a cab later and be out of your hair, I promise.”

Jonah’s dark eyes widened. “You want me to leave you alone in my home while I return the limo—a limo you puked in, by the way—so you can take a nap?”

“I promise I’ll just nap and go,” I said, then felt my stomach drop. “Wait. I puked in your limo?”

Jonah looked like he had a smart-ass retort ready to go, but he must’ve felt sorry for me because he said in a gentler tone, “Don’t you have a show tonight?”

“I have some time before I have to be back.”

Jonah rubbed his chin, looking torn. “After I return the limo, I was planning on going to work. My other work,” he added. “I have a tight schedule, a really tight schedule and I need to keep to it.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to interfere.” I looked up at him and offered a smile. “What do you do for your other work?”

Jonah waved a hand at the glass on the coffee table.

“You’re a collector?”

“No, I make these.”

My eyes widened as I looked at the glass art with new eyes. There were two sphere-shaped paperweights, one that looked like it was filled with sea life from a coral reef, and the other holding an incredibly intricate swirl of color. Beside the paperweights was a bottle striped with gold dust soaked in ribbons of red.

I picked up the paperweight with the sea life in it: anemones with white and yellow tentacles, ruffled ribbons of color, and—somehow—the speckled colorations of tropical fish.

“A piece of the ocean in my hand,” I murmured. I glanced up at him. “You made this?”

“Yeah. It’s what I do. I’m not a limo driver. That’s my night job. By day I’m an industrial artist. Lighting, metal, glass. Mostly glass.”

“You’re really good,” I said. “More than good. This is astonishing.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, watching me hold the glass.

He probably thinks I’m going to break it. I carefully set the paperweight back down.

“So, I gotta get to the hot shop,” Jonah said. “That’s where I make them, the glass. I’ll be there until about two this afternoon.” He pressed his lips together, thinking. Finally he said, “I guess… Well, I guess you’re welcome to stay here until then.”