Full Tilt (Full Tilt #1)(32)

Only we didn’t have time. Anything we started was just going to be torn up again when I left on Tuesday.

“We can stay in touch,” I murmured to myself. The crazy, relentless tour schedule loomed in front of me like an endless road, but a text or call from Jonah might make it more bearable. Just thinking about it made leaving a little less daunting.

The ring of my cell phone broke the silence. I jogged to the bedroom and fished the phone out of my bag to see Lola’s number.

“Hey.”

“Hey, girl,” she said, sounding tired on the other end. “You still alive?”

“Yeah, but you sound rough,” I said. “How was the party?”

“Oh God, I can’t even…”

I heard the flick of a cigarette lighter, and it occurred to me I hadn’t smoked since last night’s show. Or wanted to.

“It was epic,” she said, exhaling. “Booze was consumed. Police were called. Sex was had by many, including yours truly.”

“Oh yeah?” I sat on the edge of Jonah’s bed. “Who?”

“Jason Hughes. The bassist from our soon-to-be former opening act. It’s too bad, really. He’s hot. You should appreciate the sacrifices I make for you.”

“For me?” Then I remembered Ryan Perry, the drummer, getting grabby with me last night. Jonah stepped in and Lola demanded Jimmy fire Until Tomorrow.

“Yeah, for you,” Lola said.

“Maybe we could—”

“We have twenty-five more cities and six months’ worth of touring left with those guys. You really want to take your chances?”

I glanced down at my hands in my lap. “I’m sure Ryan was just drunk and being stupid.”

“Yes, to both. Neither excuses him.” Lola exhaled, her voice revved up to lecture mode. “You get drunk and stupid too, Kace, and it would only be a matter of time before he took advantage of the situation. Hell, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Wow, thanks,” I said, my cheeks burning. I almost told her I could take care of myself, but I had zero evidence to back that up. Lola had watched over me since I was seventeen years old, when the band’s success swept me up in a whirlwind of recording and non-stop touring. I’d never stood on my own two feet and hadn’t ever been sober long enough to try.

But I could try. If I had the guts…

“Sorry I’m grouchy, hon,” Lola said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want anything to wreck this, Kace.”

“I know,” I said. “But getting a new opening act is a hassle.”

It might be easier for Rapid Confession to get a new guitarist.

The words rose suddenly on my tongue, shocking me. But I couldn’t spit them out.

“I don’t see an alternative,” Lola teased, “unless we assign Hugo to you twenty-four/seven.”

To babysit me.

I suddenly didn’t want to talk to Lola anymore. I had tonight and all of tomorrow before I had to be back on RC time, and I didn’t want to waste a second of it.

“I gotta run,” I told my best friend. “Talk later?”

“Sure, I’ll shoot you a text. Oh hey, how’s it going with the limo driver? He’s adorable. And hot. Not many guys can pull off that combination. Are you two getting along?”

I could practically see her knowing grin, and my irritation flared. She wouldn’t understand if I tried to tell her we were building a potential friendship, and she definitely wouldn’t believe I hadn’t slept with him. Hell, if Jonah hadn’t been the gentleman he was last night, I would’ve slept with him.

A sudden, pleasant shiver raced down my spine at the thought and I crossed my legs.

No. This is different. Jonah is different. He’s not a guy I f*ck at random. He’s…

“He’s wonderful,” I said. “Goodbye, Lola.”

I hung up, and jammed the phone into my bag, all the way to the bottom.

Not an instant later, I heard a text come in. I dug it out and my heart rose to see Jonah’s number. It sank when I read the words:

Have to bail on you for the day. Too much work, then family dinner. Maybe order pizza? Sorry.

“Shit,” I said. My hand let the phone drop back into my purse. Disappointment bit deep, not just from him cancelling, but the terse, dry text itself.

I typed, No prob. CU later, and looked it over, satisfied it was casual and unconcerned. As it should be, I reminded myself. He had a schedule to keep and he was keeping it.

I hit send.





The hours passed slowly. I didn’t know how you could miss someone you’d only known a day and a half.

Around noon, I did what Jonah suggested and ordered a pizza—vegetarian, in case he wanted some later—and a six-pack of Diet Coke from a local place that delivered. I channel-surfed while curled up on Jonah’s couch. When I got cold, I went looking for the green-and-orange afghan, finally finding it balled-up in the hall closet.

I had seconds on pizza for dinner, and found When Harry Met Sally on a cable channel. One of my all-time favorites, but I found myself drifting to sleep around nine o’clock. My own sleep patterns were a mystery, since I usually stayed up until whatever party was over, and then crashed out after. But nine seemed early as hell. I guessed I had a lot of catching up to do.