Beats (16 page)

Naturally, there’s no place I’d rather be.

“I can’t use your drums. They’re personal. It would be like asking to borrow your toothbrush.”

“After the three of us broke them in this morning, I don’t think the drums will mind. And neither do I.” Toombs leans in. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me, but he glances at Rax and pulls back.

Always damn Rax raining on my Toombs parade. He hangs in the periphery, watching us. Calculating his next snaky move, I’ll bet.

“I—I need to clear my head.” Tongue-tied and brain-scrambled, I drop to the floor next to my shoes and put them on. “I’ll be back in a while.” I start to stand.

Toombs gives me a hand up, blocking my line of sight to Rax. “I meant what I said. Use my drums.”

“I appreciate that.” Afraid to stick around for fear I’ll put my foot in my mouth, I hustle out the door and make for the elevator.

On the ride down, I try Mom on her cell phone, but I’m dumped to voicemail. So I text her:
When were u gonna tell me u lost ur job?

I know she’s trying to protect me, but we’re both too old for this shit.

The minute the doors open, I dart out, wander through the lobby, and plant myself in an oversized chair. I dial Jillian.

“Jinx,” she says. Not a trace of weariness in her voice. I swear the woman never sleeps.

“Hi. I, uh, need to ask you something, and I wonder if you’d mind keeping it between us?”

“Of course. And when you’re done, I have a question for you.”

Great.

“What’s on your mind?” she says.

“I was wondering about the contract we signed with Megaphonia. When did they say we’ll get our advance?”

“First payment comes when you deliver the bones of the new album. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but they want a demo. Which brings me to my question.”

Gulp.

“When am I gonna get my demo? We have guitar, bass, and vocals ready to roll. Alas, no drums. What the hell is going on with you, Jinx? You never had a problem producing for the band before.”

Yeah, that was before Toombs and I became bandmates. Before he addled my brain and threw the rest of me out of rhythm. I let out a long sigh. “You want beats, I’ll make them for you. I’ll work out some stuff today.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks, and you have yet to produce anything beyond basic, lame shit even
I
could regurgitate. Come on, girl, your fans expect complicated, quirky rhythms outta you. They want John Bonham with boobs and better hair. You’re churning out drum tracks with zero emotion, zero groove. If that’s all this band is getting out of you, we can hook up to a fucking drum machine and Milli Vanilli that shit. Or hell, give the drums back to Toombs and let him take up your slack.”

My heart trips on a speed bump, skids over ten feet of rocky pavement, and rolls over, covered in gashes. “No. I can do it.” Shit. I
hope
I can do it.

“This is my final warning. Get your ass in gear. You have until we hit New Orleans. If you haven’t got your shit straight by then, I’m giving it to Toombs, and we’ll have to renegotiate the contract not to include you.”

She wouldn’t do that to me, would she? No. Surely not. I wait for her to qualify her statement, to apologize, or flat out take it back. She doesn’t.

“I understand, Jillian.” Oh my God, I think I’m going to hyperventilate.

“Good. Pull your head out of your ass—or Toombs’s ass—and give me my beats.”

I flinch. “Okay.”

The line clicks dead. I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it.

I guess that settles it. It’s back to the penthouse suite to work. Or else.

What the hell am I gonna do about my parents? Mikey’s piano lessons aren’t the only things on the line. Now it’s a matter of my family being able to
eat
. Shit, if I don’t do as Jillian says, we’re
all
screwed.

Snake Attack

I return to the suite, dejected, heartbroken, and worst of all, empty of song. I’m a ball of nerves. About Toombs, my family, the music, and Rax.

I sorta miss the days when I shyly admired Toombs from afar, beat my drums to vent my frustrations over his apathy, and never dreamed Rax or anyone else would want a piece of me. Obscurity is never more appealing than when you’re under a spotlight.

Rax looks up from the guitar on his lap as I enter the room. I lay the key on the bar counter and head for the spare bedroom, hoping my shadow won’t follow.

No such luck. And no Toombs to rescue me. Damn it.

Well, not that Toombs
would
rescue me. Only if Rax gave him permission.

I slide my fingers over the cold surface of the ride cymbal and steal a peek at the snare drum head the three of us molested earlier. Clean as a policeman’s gun.

“I think you bruised my cock.” Rax strides toward me, guitar strapped over his shoulder. He strums a chord and dabbles with a riff.

“You deserved it.” I sit on Toombs’s throne. I adjust the height and settle back down, legs spread, feet testing the pedals.

“And what I wouldn’t give to be bruised over and over again.” He settles his gaze on my breasts and licks his lips. “Preferably if it involves that tight ass of yours.”

Do not get sucked into a sexual conversation with him. You might not like where it ends.

I grab the pair of sticks lying across one of the toms and twirl them between my fingers. “Where’s Toombs?”

“Gone.”

Not for good, I hope.

Rax picks up where he left off on the riff from a moment ago, expands it, doodles notes like an artist with a pencil. Except his instrument produces stunning audio masterpieces instead of visual ones. Well, if you don’t count his striking face as part of the package.

Stop it, Jinx.

His fingers halt the sonic dance and stifle the strings with the suddenness of a striking snake. “Toombs said he overheard you talking to your brother.”

Shit. He was eavesdropping outside the bathroom door.

I tap out a foundation on the bass drum. Steady, hard, unforgiving.

“Your mom works at a bank?”

“Worked.”

“Ah. She lost her job, huh? In this economy, it’s not surprising.” He unwinds the strap, shrugs off the guitar, and sets it upright in the corner.

The hi-hat joins in at my left foot’s direction. “I don’t want to talk about my family. I need to work on some music. Do you mind?”

“It’s tough all around,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken. He circles me. “What did your mom do? Teller? Loan officer? Accountant?”

I put an abrupt end to my footwork with a crash to the splash cymbal. “Why do you care?”

Rax stops right behind me, leans into my ear, and says, “Because my dad owns Rathbone Community Bank in Athens. Maybe I can help you out.”

My stomach drops like a bomb. Of course he comes from banker royalty. Because my life is an ironic joke, dying for the last laugh when the out-of-left-field punch line finally arrives. Forever jinxed.

Well, I gotta give Rax credit. His stage name of Wrathbone is a clever, if not Gothic, play on his elite-sounding family name.

“I don’t need your help.”

“So, your mom
doesn’t
need a new job?”

I flatten my lips together. How does Rax always find a way to string me along?

He spins me on the stool to face him, and I look away. My disgust for him is starting to outweigh my desire. I view this as a good thing.

“How about a little
quid pro quo
, Jinxie? I’ll talk to my dad about getting your mom a new gig if you give me one night alone with you. Like we did here, but without Toombs.”

Not no. Hell
fucking
no. “I don’t think so.” Absolutely, positively not. I will never do Rax without Toombs. In fact, I never want to repeat what we did with Rax, regardless of how hot it was. I’ve gotta put my foot down. He has to understand.

His blue eyes spark with challenge. “What if I sweeten the deal for you? I’ll give you Toombs tonight, in this hotel room. Just the two of you, as I promised before. All you have to do is give me your body for one night when we get to New Orleans. Tell your mom to apply at the bank tomorrow. She’ll have the job the day after. I swear.” I’m almost certain I catch a glimpse of a forked tongue.

I resist the overwhelming urge to launch a drumstick right between his eyes. “No.”

“What’s the problem? I already fucked you six ways to Saskatchewan. It’s not like we’re dealing with undiscovered country here.”

“Yeah, but you miss one crucial point. I don’t like you, Rax.”

“You liked me well enough when I pounded your ass this morning. And when you came as I ate your pussy.” He takes the stick from me and glides it over my breast like Letty did on the bus. Then he jams the wood tip to my cheek, forcing me to face him.

Oh
hell
no. I slap the stick away, fast as lightning.

“You looking for another shiner to match this one?” I caress the blotch beneath his eye.

He smiles. “No. But now I see what Toombs enjoys so much about pain mixed with pleasure. I wouldn’t mind another round with any one of your holes, Jinx.”

My phone vibrates from by butt pocket. I stand, give Rax my back, and check the caller ID. Mom. “Excuse me,” I almost spit at Rax and go into the other room.

I bring the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, hon.” Mom sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to. I didn’t even realize Johnny knew.”

“Geez, Mom. What happened?” I consider sitting down but opt for pacing instead. Too much angry energy.

“They can’t afford to keep on all six tellers anymore. I was the last one hired, so I’m the first one to go.”

“You’ve worked at that bank for two years. How can they do that to you?”

“It’s not the bank’s fault. You can’t pay out more than you bring in.”

Head to toe, every joint in my body
aches
for her and Dad. And Mikey. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m gonna put in applications and cross my fingers. It’s all I can do. We have to eat.”

I close my eyes. “Have you tried Rathbone Community Bank?” I can’t believe I’m going here, but what choice do I have?

“That one’s on my list. I’ll pick up applications at a couple of other banks on my lunch break. Don’t worry about us, Gianna. You’re doing all you can too.”

Not
all
I can. But I guess that’s about to change. I face the bedroom as Rax’s tall frame darkens the door. He leans against the jamb.

I feel like a whore.

I
am
a whore.

But even whores have families. And blood is a hell of a lot thicker than my pride.

“You feeling better about the band now?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Everything’s fine here.”

“Good. I worry about you on the road with those tattooed musicians and crazy fans. I want to see you, but I know how busy you are. Take care of yourself and do what you gotta do. You’ll be home soon enough.”

I sure will. One way or another. “Yep.”

“I love you, Gianna.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Rax unfolds himself from the doorframe and swaggers over. “So touching.” With a mocking grin, he leans in. Too close.

I back away, return to the main room, and sit on the couch. “Why are you such an ass?”

He plops down beside me. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“Which makes me very unlucky.”

“Come on, Jinx. Don’t make it weird.”

I huff and turn on him. My hair barely misses his chin with the spin. “
I’m
making it weird? You’re bribing me to have sex with you, knowing full well I want…someone else. That’s messed up. And beyond assholey.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” He scoots closer. “Give me more.”

“What’s the allure? Do you get off on humiliating your victims?” He treats his groupies like total shit. This is my best working theory.

“You said it yourself. I’m an asshole. And I get what I want. Right now, you’re the object of my affection. If I have to bribe you into my bed, I’ll do it. And I’ll have no regrets about it.”

“So, you have no conscience.”

“Not really.”

“How long do you think you can hide your cheating from Toombs? Wouldn’t it be easier to come clean? Doesn’t the mountain of lies you’ve created…bother you? Toombs
loves
you, for God’s sake. That means nothing?”

Now I’m pissed. Not for myself, because I make my own damn choices, and I’ll live with them, but for Toombs, who doesn’t even know he’s being screwed. He’s in love with a guy who’s only interested in using him to snag his next score.

“I can’t tell Toombs about you because…”

“Because what?”

“Because I want you for myself.”

My hands shake in my lap, and I venture a look at his face.

All pretense is gone. The smart-aleck wise guy has left the premises. The man he left behind is kinder. Maybe even genuine.

“You remember Jacksonville? The stripper I met at the club there—Lola? She had this crazy
energy
about her, like an aura or some shit. I swear to God, it called to me. Anything like that ever happen to you? An instant connection?”

I nod. Toombs. The first time we shared the same oxygen in Jillian’s living room. I’d seen him before at some gigs in Athens, but I’d never been so close for so long. He scared the living hell out of me, but that power—charisma or whatever it was—sucked me dry. I felt weak when he left the room. He literally stole my voice.

“Well, I became obsessed with Lola. Couldn’t get her out of my head. Dreamed of her every night. Tried to find her online. A fucking
stripper
I met
once
while I was totally shit-faced. I never even fucked her. It was ridiculous. But I couldn’t help how I felt about her. She was so real, so perfect to me.

“When I realized I was probably never gonna see her again—and even if I did, she’d want nothing to do with me—a part of me fucking died. It was incapacitating. Like losing a limb and trying to figure out how to go on without it.”

I remember that time. Rax sank into a deep depression for a few days. Toombs was really worried. Rax hardly talked to anyone. Rarely came out of his bunk except to play gigs, and then disappeared again as soon as the show was done. Luckily, it didn’t last long. I chalked it up to Rax’s brush with death at the hands of alcohol poisoning. Figured the realization of his mortality had finally set in and scared the bejesus out of him. Guess I was wrong.