Rough Rhythm: A Made in Jersey Novella (1001 Dark Nights)(4)

Lita’s reality slowed down, every tick of the imaginary clock sounding like a gong in her ears. Denial expanded, pushing to the furthest edges of her insides, leaving no room for air. “What d-does that mean?”

James stared straight forward as he delivered words that stalled her heart mid-beat. “I’ve found my replacement. One week from today, I’ll no longer be managing Old News.”





Chapter Two



James couldn’t even look at Lita. Not without feeling as though his stomach were being extracted through his throat. The jail-issued plastic bag containing her possessions was clutched in his right hand as they walked down the carpeted hallway of her hotel. On the way through the revolving glass doors, he’d caught sight of her reflection and knew it would be imprinted on the back of his eyelids for life.

Abandoned. She’d looked abandoned.

James drew a long, deep breath that did nothing to ease or fortify him. It had to be this way. This dysfunctional game between the two of them had gone on too long. He’d found a way to justify it, found a way to stay close by any means necessary, until last night. By simply being in her presence, he put her life at risk. Considering his life’s dedication had become the exact opposite four years ago, James had no choice but to get a safe distance away. He hadn’t fooled himself into thinking he could give her up completely, but his role in Lita’s life now would have to be…peripheral. Much as it would kill him.

Even now, his decision-making remained shoddy, as had been the case since their first meeting. With good-bye on the line, the least wise place James could be was inside Lita’s hotel room. Amidst her smell, her clothes…her. Always her.

The f*cking jig is up. James wasn’t a band manager. Nor was he a decent man. The longer he kept the charade up, the harder it would be to walk away from Lita. And since the night he’d taken away any chance of normalcy between them—because once that particular beast was woken, it didn’t go back to sleep—he’d known this day would come to pass. His appetite had no business with a fragile girl, twelve years his junior. One who’d raced from one tragedy to another more permanent one. Him.

James didn’t question Lita’s intelligence. She happened to be the most astute person he’d ever met. A huge heart reserved for her friends and an accurate judge of character. When it came to him, however, she couldn’t see below the surface. Had no idea what moved in the shadows of his psyche. Lita wanted something she didn’t understand—and worse, James didn’t fully understand it either. How could he get a bead on something that constantly shifted and grew, wanting more?

Without thinking, James removed Lita’s room key from his pocket and dipped it into the metal reader. As natural as breathing, except it shouldn’t be. Lovers kept keys to one another’s rooms. He hadn’t laid a hand on Lita in four years.

James pushed open the door and set the plastic bag inside, refusing to take one step inside the room. He held out the card for Lita to take as she passed, eyes fastened on the air above her head, but so aware of her nearness his stomach muscles protested from being clenched so tight.

“Oh, goddamn you.” Lita plucked the card from his fingers and hurled it back into the hallway with a muffled scream. “Four years leads to this, huh? You’re just going to dump me in this f*cking…”—she waved her hands to encompass the hotel—“…rock star purgatory and bail? If you’re doing this to teach me a lesson, I will never forgive you, James.”

“I’m not.” He cleared the cobwebs from his throat. “That’s not what this is.”

Without looking at Lita, he knew she’d be chewing her bottom lip, leaving teeth marks that would take until nighttime to fade. “I guess we really meant a lot to you if it’s this easy. No notice. Just…peace out, suckers.”

James swallowed the urge to shake her. “I think you know this is the furthest thing from easy.”

“No. I don’t know anything,” she shouted before several silent beats passed. “Except that you’re a coward. You can’t even look me in the eye.”

He surged forward, pushing her back against the doorjamb. Going to break. Too much. I shouldn’t have come up here. He’d made the mistake of looking down into green eyes swimming with moisture, calling her bluff. “Does the thought of you hurting yourself to get my attention make me a coward? Yes? So be it, Lita.” His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. “If something happened to you, I wouldn’t make it to the next sunrise.”

Lita’s body deflated, head falling back. “You can’t say something like that and leave,” she said, lips hardly moving. “It’s cruel.”

“I’m a cruel man.”

“No.” Lita moved into the elegant room, booted feet dragging. A miniature hurricane in a gilded cage. He’d chosen the room himself, another sign of his madness, his need to control her surroundings. Have knowledge of everything she touched. His neck grew hot when she turned, sliding a gaze down his front.

Turning and leaving was imperative at that moment, but he couldn’t resist hearing what she would say next. Delaying the good-bye.

“Remember what you called me the first night we met?” She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Before you leave, call me that one more time.”