Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(2)

At the thought of salty, savory goodness, Lita’s stomach rumbled loud enough to draw the attention of a group of men. Men in ties. Men that didn’t live in her world. Still, she sent them an inviting smile, praying her sparkly, thrift shop miniskirt looked better in the near dark than it had on the rack.

The words, please, I’m hungry, were burning on her tongue, but she couldn’t just say that, could she? They would alert security or turn their backs, muttering about the lack of decent drinking establishments for professionals such as themselves. Before they finished their drinks, she would be an afterthought.

One of the men—he wore a blue button-down shirt and ruby red tie—checked her legs out, his expression relaying interest. He nudged his friend with an elbow and Lita stood there, stomach twisting, as the four of them looked her up and down. A polar blast swept over her skin, far cooler than the air conditioning. No. This wasn’t what she’d envisioned, but could see now that she’d been wearing rose-colored glasses, even after being chewed up and spit out on the curb of life. After everything, she was still na?ve. Still an optimist.

How f*cking sad.

“How much for all of us?” Ruby Red Tie asked before tossing back the contents of his rocks glass. “At the same time.”

For the first time that day, an empty stomach was a blessing because Lita would have lost the contents right there on the men’s shiny loafers. They’d categorized her as a working girl in under ten seconds. Everyone in the room probably had. Maybe they were right. Even if she found a way off the street tonight, what about tomorrow? Would she keep doing this? Lita’s attention spanned the room in quick jerks, taking in the way other women were dressed. How men looked at them. With respect. One week. It had only taken one week for her to fall this far.

She had to get out of there—figure out a different way to eat. Anything was better than being judged. Laughed at.

Lita spun on a heel—too fast. She’d moved too fast. The room spun and blurred around her, stomach clenching around nothing. Her hip rammed into a table, upsetting drinks on a pair of female customers. She tried to mumble an apology, but her legs chose that moment to stop supporting her. Down she went, like a sack of wet laundry. Down…down…

Powerful arms caught her around the middle just before she hit the floor.





Chapter One



Four Years Later



This time she would finally crack him.

Ignoring stares from her cellmates, Lita jogged in place, preparing for the confrontation with James, her band manager. This was her ritual before shows, too. It loosened the limbs, shook out the demons. She took her role as drummer for Old News seriously, same way she considered riling up James a form of art. For four freaking years, they’d been repeating this song and dance—and Lita was over it. Today was the day James lost his cool. The way he’d lost it the night they met.

Remembering the state she’d been in when James found her, Lita jogged a little faster. At twenty-three, she wasn’t that scrawny, starving girl now. Not in most ways, anyway. The memory of what took place that night still had the ability to steal her breath, make her restless. But unlike the girl she’d been at nineteen, Lita didn’t wait for fate to wave its magical hand. No. She grabbed fate’s wrist and shook, shook, until the pieces fell into an acceptable pattern. That modus operandi is what had landed her inside a musky, Wilshire division holding cell of LA County’s jail system.

Lita didn’t have a head for numbers, but was pretty damn sure today would mark the twenty-first time James had bailed her out of a jail-type situation. Looking after the interests of Old News’s members was his job. Their relationship, however, fell outside the parameters of a typical musician-manager arrangement. Not that he would ever admit it. No, James simply continued to show up when Lita got into trouble, lecturing her about proper behavior on the way to dropping her off. And leaving. He left every time, that distinguished jaw of his firmly set, sunglasses hiding the guilt she knew lurked in his eyes four years later.

Not this time. Last night, Lita had gone above and beyond to ensure this morning wrought one of two outcomes: James quitting, giving up on her like everyone else did eventually, or his control finally slipped. One way or another, she wouldn’t be in limbo come tonight. She’d been there too long.

Lita stopped jogging when she heard the jingling of the guard’s keys. James was right on time, as usual. Her cellmates craned their necks, some coming to their feet in the hopes they were being released. Lita stowed a pang of sympathy and whipped her hair into a quick ponytail. The guard cast a tired-eyed glance in her direction and unlocked the door. “Lita Regina, your bail has been posted.”

“Sweet, thanks.”

The woman who’d recognized Lita held up a hand for a high-five as she passed through the cell exit. “Aren’t you worried about cameras waiting outside?”

Lita slapped the woman’s palm. “Not as long as they get my good side.” She turned and shook her ass, kicking up snickers around the cell. “Hope everyone gets home for dinner.”

Unenthused good-byes followed Lita down the hallway, at the end of which she knew James would be pacing in the waiting area. She already had a sarcastic comment chambered about the wrinkle-free suit he no doubt wore, how out of place he looked. Although, she held out hope he’d been so pissed off by her antics, he’d thrown on jeans for once in his life. James in jeans. Lita ran fingertips down her belly, imagining the way denim would ride his hips. How the smooth circle of the metal button would rest against his stomach all day, warming with his body temperature. Please, please, let today be the day he stops treating me like a child. If her body’s reaction to thoughts of James were any indication, she was all woman. And she needed the man who’d awakened her needs to tend them.