Running with Scissors
Read Running with Scissors Online
Authors: Unknown
RUNNING
with
SCISSORS
L . A . W I T T
Riptide Publishing
PO Box 6652
Hillsborough, NJ 08844
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.
Running with Scissors
Copyright © 2015 by L.A. Witt
Cover art: L.C. Cha
se, lcchase.com/design.htm
Editors: Carole-ann Galloway, Delphine Dryden
Layout: L.C. Chase,
lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, a
t Riptidepublishing.com
, or at
ISBN: 978-1-62649-331-5
First edition
August, 2015
Also available in paperback:
ISBN: 978-1-62649-332-2
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RUNNING
with
SCISSORS
Eighteen months ago, drummer Jude Colburn made the
biggest mistake of his life when he walked away from his
band just as they were on the brink of success. Now, he’s got a second chance. The band’s bassist just quit, and Jude plays bass almost as well as he plays drums. The other band members
aren’t thrilled, but they
are
desperate.
Running with Scissors needs him, but there’s one condition:
no hooking up with bandmates. That’s what ruined things
eighteen months ago, after al . Jude’s on board, but no
one warned him about the drummer who replaced
him
.
A.J. Palmer is shy and unassuming . . . until he hits the stage.
He gets Jude’s attention from the first beat, and suddenly that
“no hookups” rule isn’t so easy to follow.
Keeping secrets on a tour bus isn’t easy either, and it’s only a matter of time before the band catches on. When everything
hits the fan, Jude has to choose: a second chance at the career he’s always regretted leaving, or a shot at the man of his
dreams?
table of
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
1
Chapter 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Chapter 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
Chapter 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40
Chapter 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Chapter 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
Chapter 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Chapter 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Chapter 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
Chapter 10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Chapter 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Chapter 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Chapter 13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
Chapter 14 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Chapter 15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151
Chapter 16 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Chapter 17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
Chapter 18 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
Chapter 19 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
Chapter 20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
Chapter 21 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Chapter 22 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222
Chapter 23 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231
Chapter 24 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
Chapter 25 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Chapter 26 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
Chapter 27 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
Chapter 28 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273
Chapter 29 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280
Chapter 30 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291
Chapter 31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298
ey, Jude?”
Jude looked up from a stack of invoices and turned to
“hSteve, his cubicle mate. “Hmm?”
“You’re doing it again.”
Jude’s foot stopped moving, and he realized he’d been
tapping it against the leg of his desk. Again. Tucking his feet beneath his chair, he muttered, “Sorry.”
No reply. At least Steve was more or less polite about it.
Their other cubicle mate, Grant, was constantly on Jude’s case, and never even tried to hide his irritation.
Jude knew it annoyed them, and he tried his best not to
do it, but telling a drummer not to tap his foot was like telling an eye not to see.
You’re not a drummer anymore.
He gritted his teeth. He’d always be a drummer. Always.
Just because he wasn’t in a band at the moment didn’t mean—
Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude.
Cursing under his breath, he scrubbed a hand over his
face. His leg itched with the need to mark time to the rhythm
he had stuck in his head.
He couldn’t listen to the radio.
1
Couldn’t wear headphones.
Couldn’t tap his foot.
Couldn’t fucking concentrate.
“Jude?” Steve sounded concerned this time. “You okay?”
Grant muttered something. Jude didn’t catch it, but he
recognized the tone and glanced at his own fingers.
Which were tapping beside his keyboard.
Fuck.
“I’ll be right back.” He snatched his phone off the desk
and left. Head down, heart thumping, he hurried through the
maze of cubicles. His cigarettes and lighter were already in
his hand. He didn’t even remember pul ing them out of his
pocket, but whatever.
As the door to the communal patio came into view, he put
a cigarette between his lips. He sensed one of the receptionists glaring at him—
it’s not even
lit,
for God’s sake
—but kept his gaze fixed on the door in front of him.
And finally, he was there.
He pushed it open with his hip, and before he’d even
stepped all the way out into the SoCal heat, he’d cupped a
hand around the end of his cigarette and flicked the lighter.
One drag brought his pulse back down. The second
stilled his hands. Sort of. His fingers might as well have had
a mind of their own, and were tapping out the bass line of
a song he’d heard this morning on the radio. That tapping,
much like the nicotine easing its way into his system, settled
him. Centered him.
And naturally, drove his coworkers
insane
.
Holding his cigarette between two fingers, he rubbed
his forehead with the heel of his hand. He’d long ago given
up telling himself he was just having a bad day. If that were
the case, he wouldn’t be out here every fucking afternoon, 2
smoking two or three cigarettes in a row just to keep himself
sane until five o’clock. And there wouldn’t be two more in the
car. Three if traffic was exceptionally bad, even by Los Angeles standards.
At least in the car, he’d have music. The radio worked, and
he had his iPod as backup. He’d be able to get the beat out of
his system on the steering wheel because there’d be no one
around to get on his case about it.
He lowered his hand and glared at the cigarette. His mom
kept telling him these things would kill him sooner or later.
After a year and a half behind a desk in a cramped cubicle,
he was pretty sure the job would do him in well before the
smokes did.
It’s your own fault you’re here.
Jude swore under his breath. Then he took another long
drag and held it for a moment as he gazed out at the hazy LA
skyline.
Every day, it was the same shit. He worked until he
couldn’t anymore. Then he made his escape to this patio. And
smoked. And kicked himself for being here in the first place.
This job was hell. The monotony and the buzz of
fluorescent lights seemed to numb everyone else into some
weird state where casual Friday and birthday potlucks were
things to legitimately look forward to, but he had never
adjusted. Day by day, he grew surer that he never would.
I could be on the road with them right now.
The thought didn’t even make him flinch anymore. Well,
not much. Okay, not as bad as it had when he’d first found out
