Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(52)

“No, you’re right Lena.” He slapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly. “I know, let’s go to my favorite bar and hang out for a while. We’ll do a couple of shots for old time’s sake and then I can pick up a girl or two, bring them back here to play. Sounds fun, yeah? I think we’d all have a real good time.”

I had nothing to offer on his suggestion.

“What, you don’t like that idea?”

Change of plans. What I most wanted for Christmas was to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. No one else drove me this crazy. “If you’re finished being an *, I’ll explain what I meant,” I said.

“Oh, please do.”

“I think you need more,” I said, my voice emphatic. “You need friends outside of me and the band.”

“So I’d be dating to make you feel better?”

“No, Jimmy.” I bundled my coat up against my chest like a shield. “You’d be dating because you’re ready. Because you’re a wonderful man who has a lot to offer a woman when you’re not being a complete and utter bastard like now.”

He gave me a slow clap. “That was beautiful, Lena. Like poetry. I think I almost cried.”

“What even is it when you get like this? Are you scared? Is it your turn to PMS, what is it exactly? Do you need a hug?” I crossed the floor between us. “Because I’m trying to understand what motivates this shit with you. But at the end of the day, you’re a grown man in control of himself and you’re choosing to act like an absolute prick and you’re pushing away people that care for you in the process. Explain that to me.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Try again.” I towered over his seated form in my heels, furious. The man was damn lucky there were no weapons to hand. Then slowly he stood, the solid length of him almost forcing me to take a step back. Except I refused to. “Well?”

The edge of his mouth curled up. “You never back down, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?”

There almost seemed to be a hint of gray in his eyes. Like he’d seen too much, like it had aged him in ways. His voice softened. “So fearless.”

“No, I just refuse to be afraid of you,” I said. “I think too many people over the years have gotten into the habit of scurrying off to do your bidding out of fear of being the target of your snide comments, or at the merest hint of that famous Ferris anger. It’s bullshit. I will not be like that with you. You’re not an overtired toddler throwing a tantrum, you are an adult. You can control yourself if you choose to. And it’s about time you chose to.”

His just stared at me, face expressionless.

“Well?”

He raised his hand and ever so carefully, lifted a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Then he bent in close enough for his lips to brush my ear, his breath warm. “You’re right, I was an * to you just now.”

“I know,” I whispered back.

The smile was in his eyes even if it was missing from his mouth. He studied my face, taking his time. “You never have to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you.”

“I know that too.” Not on purpose he wouldn’t. Never on purpose.

“Go on. Go on your date, Lena.”

My chin rose. “Think about what I said.”

He exhaled then gave me a begrudging nod. “Deal.”

# # #

“That’s the eleventh time you’ve checked your phone in the last half an hour. Something wrong?”

“God, I’m sorry,” I said, slipping the stupid thing back into my bag. “You were explaining to me exactly what a sound technician does and I zoned out on you which was horribly rude.”

My date gave me his crooked smile. Damn, he was cute. The problem with spending quality time with the godlike Stage Dive boys was, you lost touch with normality. They were the ideal that porny dreams were made of. Right here beside me, however, Dean Jennings was all that and then some. Brown hair fell to his shoulders and a silver ring pierced his lip, green eyes watched me with faint humor.

“I’ve worked with Jimmy on and off for the past six years,” he said. “I know he can be a handful, so if you need to get back to him we can do this another night.”

“That’s good of you, but he’s fine. He wanted me out of the house, so he’s probably in need of some space.”

Dean nodded. “I think it’s great the way he’s gotten clean and everything.”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t have been easy.”

“No.”

He picked at the label on his bottle of beer. Around us, the cool people partied in the underground dive bar. It was in Chinatown, a band and hangers-on favorite.

Maybe this bar was also the one Jimmy had referred to as his pick, though it wasn’t the kind of place I could imagine anyone wearing a suit. Some of the women here were definite eye-catchers. There was a jukebox belting out indie classics, a couple of pinball machines and a pool table. The place had a nice, dingy, sticky-floored vibe and they also did awesome chili fries. I popped one into my mouth and my taste buds wept with gratitude. Either that or I was drooling, they were just that good.

“Sorry. Guess you can’t really talk about him,” said Dean, summoning me back to the present once more.