Beats (5 page)

I shimmy into it, remove my cell from my pocket, and race down the stairs outside. I run away from the bus and taunts and jokes to a quiet patch of woods nearby. I gotta pull my shit together. When I’m certain no one followed me, I call home.

Mom answers the phone with a bright, “Hello?” Loud male voices banter behind hers. My dad and brothers. No one in my house knows how to speak softly. Well, except for Mikey and me.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Gianna! Where have you been? Mikey was worried about you.”

“Yeah, we spoke yesterday. I got caught up in some…stuff. How are you?”

A heavy exhale negates her cheerful greeting from a moment ago. “I’m fine. Where are you?”

“San Antonio. You don’t sound fine. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” I picture Mom waving her hand dismissively as she does when she doesn’t want to make a big deal about big deals.

I don’t like the subtle worry in her voice. “Mom. I’m a million miles from home. Don’t make me come back there.” What I wouldn’t give to make good on that threat.

She pauses. “You know things have been tight since your dad got laid off.” The bumpy cadence of her voice tells me she’s walking to another room where the guys can’t hear her.

“Yeah.” I swallow.

“Well, he still hasn’t found a job. We’ve had to…cut out a few ‘luxuries.’ Like Mikey’s piano lessons.” Her voice settles as if she’s happy to have gotten this heavy news off her chest.

My heart lurches and crashes into my rib cage at sixty-five miles per hour. Piano is Mikey’s refuge from a stormy world filled with meltdown triggers and avoidance behaviors. “What? Mom, you can’t do that. There must be something else you can trim. Mikey
needs
those lessons. They’re like therapy for him.”

Another sigh. “I know, Gianna. More than anyone. Your father and I didn’t make this decision lightly. But he’ll still get services through his IEP at school and federally funded therapy.

“Don’t tell your brothers, but we’re struggling to pay our monthly bills. Our savings account is exhausted. We’re down to the bare minimum we can spend on food, and that’s using coupons and scoping out the sales. Honey, my bank teller salary alone won’t support a family of eight, even with you, Sam, and George gone. Something has to give, and I can’t sacrifice our basic needs for piano lessons that aren’t one hundred percent necessary.”

Shit, I’d send her the money to cover piano tuition if I had it, but I’m barely keeping afloat myself. I swipe my brow. Mikey
has
to have those lessons. Without them, he’ll retreat into his shell and be content never to leave the house or interact with anyone. That’s not living. That’s existing. I won’t let my brother fall back into that trap.

Before he sat on a piano bench for the first time, Mikey was pretty much noncommunicative. Pelted by overstimulation, he shut himself off from the rest of the world. When he was little, I often found him curled into a ball in the corner of his room, arms over his head, rocking, humming softly to himself. It was his only escape from the chaos and disorder surrounding him.

But that changed when a friend of mine came over after school one day and played “Für Elise” on our old, disused piano. Five-year-old Mikey wandered out of his room, sat beside her, and
absorbed
. Within minutes, he had mastered the song.

Music is his source of confidence—his connection to “normal” people. I’ll do whatever it takes to help him maintain that connection. I never want to see that frail ball of human fear resurface again.

“I’ll come home,” I say. Screw it. Family is more important than anything—even Killer Buzz Float.

“And what would you do here?” Mom doesn’t come out and say it, but her inference is clear. If I leave the band, I won’t have a job at home, either—at least not right away. I’d be another person to feed. I’d just contribute to the problem.

“I’ll go work at McDonald’s if I have to. And I can teach Mikey some stuff on the piano. I have some musician friends who might be willing to help him.”

“Don’t be silly.” A smile sweetens Mom’s words. “You have a record contract. Pretty soon you’ll be rolling in the dough, and you’ll be sending home million-dollar checks every month.”

Mom always tries to blow off serious stuff with jokes, but I’m not laughing.

“I can be more useful at home than I am here.” Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Alarm punctuates her voice.

“Nothing.” Hand in my hair, I rub my scalp hard with the heel of my palm. I tap my foot to steady myself with a soothing, familiar beat. “Everything. I just don’t…I’m having a hard time adjusting to life on the road. My bandmates are expecting me to pull through for them in a big way, but the truth is, I can’t create. My well is dried up. The record company wants a new album soon, and I’m gonna blow it for everyone.”

I don’t tell her Toombs is the cause of my writer’s block.

“You work well under pressure. You’ll find your groove and run with it. I have faith in you.”

Leave it to Mom to lay even more of a guilt trip on me. “It’s not just that. I don’t fit in here.” Tears sneak up and launch a surprise attack. I blink them away and look up to the sky. “I want to come home, Mama.”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice softens to a soothing coo. “I know it feels like things are bad, but you have Letty. Can’t you talk to her? Or Jillian?”

I sniffle and work my arm across the underside of my suddenly snotty nose. “No. They don’t understand. I’m in way over my head. I had no business signing that contract in the first place.”

“Gianna, listen to me. You are talented and passionate and creative. This is your life’s dream. You can’t give up on it now when you’re so close. Take a couple of days to get your head together before you go off and leave your band high and dry. We’ll make do here. Mikey’s lessons are paid through the end of the month. Maybe we’ll be able to scrounge enough together for one more round.

“Tony’s still working at the pizza joint. He’s helping where he can. Sam and George both have jobs lined up for the summer when their classes end. Johnny has put in applications all over town, and he had a call for an interview yesterday. Between him and your dad, something will come up. Don’t worry.”

Easier said than done. I love my brothers, but they aren’t exactly the most motivated people in the world. Though both Sam and George have scholarships at UGA, so that’s a huge chunk of money my parents don’t have to worry about.

“I just feel like I’d be of more use to you if I were home.”

“That’s defeat talking. Not my Gianna. Now, pick up your chin, hold your head high, and show your bandmates and the record company what you’re made of.”

If I could find my lost spark, that would be easy. At the moment, I’ve got nothing but crickets chirping between my ears. “Okay, Mom. I’ll try.”

“You’ll knock ’em dead. I love you, hon. No matter what.”

I attempt a smile, but the flowing tears make it hard to fake. “I love you too. I’ll be in touch.”

We end the call, and I sit on the ground. I’ve got some pretty heavy thinking to do. If I go home, the band might not be ruined. Maybe Letty or Shades could pick up rhythm guitar, and the other could play bass. Toombs could return to drums. I’m sure he’d rather play drums anyway, so I’d be doing him a favor by leaving.

On the other hand, now that Killer Buzz Float is getting more popular, we’re bringing in more fans to our shows. More fans means more cash. In a few weeks when Killer Buzz Float’s touring bills are settled and paychecks are cut, I might be able to wire Mom and Dad a decent chunk of money. They could use my contribution for bills, and most importantly, Mikey could continue with his lessons, uninterrupted.

But staying would mean more emotional torture I don’t need. I’m not sure how many more women I can stomach bouncing through the bus doors with Toombs and Rax.

And there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to produce anything when it comes time to record this album. Toombs makes me feel about an inch tall whenever we sit down to work on new music. His intense scrutiny is as harsh as the bang of a judge’s gavel declaring a guilty verdict. It’s like he’s passing judgment on every beat I tap, every rhythm I lay down.

I wish I knew how to convince Toombs I’m good enough.

But my value to Toombs—and the rest of the band—doesn’t change the fact that Mikey needs those piano lessons like a fish needs water.

I hate tough decisions.

The sound of approaching footsteps lures my head up.

“Jinx.”

Damn it. Rax again. Why won’t he leave me alone?

I stand. He’s loaded with his trademark smug grin, cocky swagger, and ridiculously hot hair.

Gulp.

I try to muster some courage. Being alone with him makes me nervous. “What do you want?”

He stops a couple feet away and amps up the condescending smirk with a hundred degrees of sin-infused lust. “You.”

Whoa, Nelly.

“I’m not on the selling block.” I push past him, but he grabs my wrist. My muscles clench and protest under his grasp. I’d like to believe my scowl is what prompts him to let go, but somehow I doubt it.

“How about you listen to my offer before you go running off again? You might change your mind.”

My body loosens against my will. I don’t want him. I want Toombs.

I huff and look to the cloud above and behind his head. It’s a hell of a lot easier than looking at Rax.

“I’ve had my eye on you since you stumbled upon Toombs and me in the middle of that pork pull on the bus a while back. The opportunity never came up to revisit my…desires until last night.”

Please, please, please, let’s not go where I think we’re going.

“I know you have a thing for Toombs, but give me a chance. I can prove how much you need
me
. One taste of my cock on either set of your lips,” his gaze skips down my front and lands right between my legs, “is all it’ll take to make you a Rax convert.”

I squeeze my thighs together and twist my torso in hopes of directing his attention anywhere but there. “I told you before, I’m not interested.” Even as I say the words, a tiny bit of my resolve chips away.

My libido needs a chastity belt in a bad way. It’s been too long since I’ve had sex, and masturbating on a crowded bus to my perverted fantasies of Toombs only relieves so much tension.

“Come on, Jinx. One night with me, and I’ll make your secret fantasy come true.”

What is he, a mind reader? Now he has my interest. Damn it. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Of course I do. Toombs. Alone. No Rax involved. I can make it happen. Swear on my cock.” He squeezes his package.

Bullshit. Rax only cares about Rax. Why would he do me any favors? He wouldn’t. Not unless it suited his needs too. “And what happens when all is said and done? We just get back on the bus and pretend nothing ever happened?”

His blue eyes flash under the arch of a brow. “Pretty much. That’s what Letty did. You
do
know about Letty and me, right?”

I hitch my hands to my hips to keep them from smacking my legs. “You mean you, Letty, and
Shades
?”

“Technicality. I’m the one who made her come so hard, she hosed Shades’s arm. Bet I could do the same for you. Or better.”

Letty’s a
squirter
? Man, if that’s not TMI, I don’t know what is. I put a chokehold on the shiver climbing my spine.

“Why would you risk telling me stuff you don’t want Toombs to know? You two clearly have a thing.”

“Call it a gesture of goodwill.” He doesn’t take my bait, damn it. I was hoping he’d shed a little light on his relationship with Toombs. Tight-lipped jerk. “I’m asking for a simple favor. I trust you won’t tell Toombs anything because you care enough about him—and the band—not to.”

The tables are turned. Rax knows me way better than I know him. “Why come after me? You can have any woman you want. You could probably even go back and nab that Lola girl you were so hung up on in Jacksonville if you tried hard enough. I’m a mouse compared to her. There’s nothing special about me.”

Sunlight catches his irises just the right way and transforms the plain blue into glittery sapphire. He lunges and fills my personal space with doubt and intrigue and fear. His long, inked fingers stroke my cheek. The same fingers that make twisted, gorgeous music on his guitar and cause groupies to scream loud enough to rattle the bus windows when he twines his coils around them.

Rax is a bastard.

I want to slap him like I did last night, but I can’t. I’m frozen under his hypnotic, reptilian spell.

“There’s a lot that’s special about you.” His minty breath caresses my face, mingles with the sudden breeze lifting my hair and tossing it over my shoulder. Staring into his eyes, I want to hate him. Instead, I hate wanting him.

Rax closes the distance between us. His hand slides down the slope of my neck with agonizing slowness and mounts the curve of my breast. Oh God, I never put my bra back on. My nipples harden beneath the fabric and his touch. He roughs the silver barbell through my shirt, and his lips hover over mine. For a second, I picture Toombs in Rax’s stead. A forbidden wave of pleasure rolls through me. An aftershock of guilt follows in its wake.

“I view you as a challenge to be conquered. A body to be mastered. A soul to own, if only for a night. I can share you with Toombs if it means I get to taste you alone, in all your glory. Once I’ve feasted, I’ll leave the two of you to your own devices.”

He kneads my breast, and I suppress a gasp. Liquid heat floods the already hot spot between my legs. “This is your chance to have Toombs to yourself. You just have to go through me to do it.”

Would that be such a bad thing?

Shit. Of course, it would. Give myself to Rax for a shot at Toombs? That’s crazy.

Wake up, Jinx. Wake up and be strong.

I lick my lips and wriggle out of his proximity. I cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah, but what does Toombs want in this? If he’s not into me, I’m making a pretty big sacrifice for nothing. I’m not looking for a sympathy screw.”

Rax’s snake eyes narrow to slits. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? Does Toombs want you? Maybe you should ask him.”