Running with Scissors (6 page)

keep a handle on a half dozen rowdy kids who refused to stay

in line. That was probably how she felt too, especially since

she was sometimes the only thing that kept Running with

Scissors from imploding.

She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “You’ve got about

half an hour, depending on where they decide to go get food.”

With that, she walked out, letting the door slam

behind her.

For the first time in a year and a half, he was alone with

Connor, and the air between them was as fraught as it had

been the last time. Connor didn’t get up. Jude stayed where he

was, standing in the middle of the orange carpet like an idiot, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say. Finally he

managed, “It’s, um, been a while.”

His ex’s lips pulled tight. “That’s what you wanted,

isn’t it?”

“Come on. Don’t start. It’s been long enough. We can—”

Connor snorted derisively as only he could. Then he got

up from the bed and came around the foot. Face-to-face, he

and Jude locked eyes again. “Long enough? Maybe for you.”36

Jude gritted his teeth. “Listen, everything that happened

was in the past. Can we . . . I mean, we’ve got to work together.

Is there any way we can put the past behind us?”

“The past
was
behind us,” Connor snapped. “And now,

here you are.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

His lips twisted. “What I want and what the band needs

aren’t the same thing.”

“Glad you finally understand that.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Connor’s lips pulled back across his teeth.

“You’re the last man alive who can get on that high horse.

After you—”

“What do you want me to say? Kristy called me. It wasn’t

the other way around. You guys need—”

“We need a fucking bassist who knows our music. Just

because you’re bailing us out doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck us

over in the past.”

Jude exhaled hard. “Okay, look. I messed up back then. I

know I did. And I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? For which part?” Connor narrowed his eyes. “The

part where you screwed over the band? Or the part where you

screwed
me
over?”

Jude winced. “All of it. I—”

“It really doesn’t matter.” He stepped closer, still looking

Jude right in the eye. “Let’s be clear about one thing. As far

as I’m concerned, you’re here to fill in until we find someone

to sign on permanently. If that means through the next tour,

fine. But don’t think for a minute that you’re a part of this

band anymore.”

“Connor, I—”

“There’s nothing else to say.” Connor set his jaw. “You had

your shot. You’re nothing but a touring bassist now, and the

minute we find someone to—”

37

“I get it,” Jude ground out. “But the fact is, we have to be

onstage together.”

“Yeah. We do.” Connor raised his chin. “And the stage

and rehearsals are the only places we need to cross paths.”

“Is that right? Because I heard tour buses are pretty tight

confines.”

“They are.”

Jude shifted uncomfortably, running his thumb back and

forth along his fingers as if they were guitar strings. “I don’t know what you want me to say. We’re stuck together for a

while.”

“Yep.” Connor shrugged. “And Kristy can try to make

us kiss and make up all she wants, but this is the best you’re

getting from me. Personally, I think it’s a hell of a lot better than you deserve.” Another shrug. “Pity you can play the bass,

isn’t it?”

Jude rolled his eyes and exhaled. “Jesus, Connor. I fucked

up back then, but don’t you dare act like you didn’t—”

“Like I didn’t what?” Connor got right up in his face.

“Like I didn’t deserve for my best friend and boyfriend to go

off and fuck someone else just for spite? Are you saying I did?”

Jude didn’t back down. “No, you didn’t. And I’m sorry.

But don’t act like you didn’t walk all over me for a year leading up to that.”

Connor blinked. Genuine hurt flickered across his face,

cutting Jude right to the bone, but it was quickly replaced by

fresh anger. “If you were that miserable, why didn’t you just

man up and break up instead of—”

“I tried. Several times.”

Connor laughed humorlessly. “Well. Guess it worked

the last time, didn’t it?” He stormed past Jude, clipping his

shoulder as he went by and muttering “motherfucker” under

38

his breath. Before Jude could stop him, he snatched his wallet

off the table, threw open the door, and stormed out.

The door banged shut. Jude’s shoulders dropped.

Maybe he should’ve kept that cubicle job after al .

39

o keep the peace, Jude roomed with Kristy that night

t while Connor stayed with Richie and A.J. For a while,

Richie tried to talk Connor down, but eventually gave up

and put on his headphones, leaving A.J. to listen to Connor

ranting and sniping about Jude.

A.J. kept his mouth shut. There was no point in trying

to reason with Connor if the subject was Jude. He couldn’t

blame the guy. From what everyone had said, Jude had left

them all in one hell of a lurch back then, and he’d hurt

Connor. Though the lead singer was a volatile son of a bitch,

and maybe not the easiest person to live or work with, A.J.

couldn’t imagine he’d deserved to have his heart stomped on

and his band left hanging in one night. A.J. didn’t envy the

situation he was in now.

But the show had to go on, and they’d be on the road at

the crack of dawn, so despite Jude’s presence next door, they

settled in to grab some shut-eye.

Not surprisingly, it was one of the worst restless nights

he’d had so far on this tour. It didn’t help that Connor spent

most of it tossing and turning. In the next bed, A.J. was

wide-awake because even when Connor was still, his

40

frustration was so palpable, it might as well have been

feedback through an amp—constant, shrill, impossible to

muffle or ignore. Great. The rest of this tour was going to be

like living in his parents’ house during the final weeks of their marriage.

He sighed into the taut silence. No wonder Shiloh had

lost her shit the night she’d realized Connor and Wyatt were

sleeping together. A.J. had thought she was overreacting—

so what if two adults in the same band were dating? Who

cared?—but she must’ve known what the aftermath would

be. The inevitable breakup. The three excruciating weeks

of Wyatt and Connor gnashing their teeth at each other.

A screaming match that almost killed Connor’s voice an hour

before a show.

She’d probably seen all of that coming, but A.J. doubted

even she had imagined that Wyatt would pack up and walk

out. None of them had expected that. Not from the band

member who’d been most vocal about his resentment toward

Jude. And now, like an evil prophecy coming to fruition,

Wyatt was gone, Jude was in his place, and Connor was losing

his mind.

A.J. shifted beneath the covers, doing his level best not to

wake Richie. He wasn’t sure why he bothered. The guitarist

could’ve slept onstage during a show. Lucky bastard.

A.J. swore into his pillow. Then he closed his eyes, took a

deep breath, and tried like hell to go to sleep.

Kristy sent them all wake-up texts at six fifteen, including

one to A.J. to remind him to wake Richie. At six forty-five, she was at their door, making sure everyone was out of bed.

41

“You guys can shower tonight if you have to, but we need

to get on the road. Let’s
go
.”

Richie rubbed his eyes. “The bus is here already?”

“Yep.” She gestured over her shoulder. “And it’s leaving as

soon as you all get your butts on it.”

A.J. glanced past her, beyond the breezeway’s railing.

Below them the tour bus took up a sizeable chunk of the

parking lot, its diesel engines idling while Vanessa and Shiloh shuffled toward it, dragging their suitcases behind them.

“Let’s go,” Kristy said again, and left the room.

A.J. bit back a string of curses. Connor didn’t. Awesome.

It was going to be one of those days when everyone within

earshot would know exactly how displeased the lead singer

was. That would make the bus ride through corn-covered

plains just
fly
by.

Trying to stay out of everyone’s way, A.J. dressed, gathered

his things, and left the room. Brushing his teeth in the parking lot with an ice-cold bottle of water was a bit more “roughing

it” than he liked, but it kept him from being underfoot.

He rinsed his mouth and toothbrush and then joined

the others on the bus. Richie was sprawled across the sofa,

seat-belted and snoring. Still no Connor, but he was always

the straggler. This morning, he was probably in even less of a

hurry than usual.

Outside, with his back to the bus, Jude rocked from the

balls of his feet to his heels, a cigarette between his taped

fingers. Through the tinted window, A.J. couldn’t see much

of Jude’s face—even when he turned, his baseball cap and

sunglasses kept his eyes in shadow.

A.J. couldn’t help wondering how much of his smoking

was due to nicotine addiction and how much of it was nerves.

He’d heard Jude step out of the room next door, and in the

42

stillness, he’d been able to make out the click of a lighter. At least once, Jude had either been playing with the lighter, or

he’d smoked two cigarettes in rapid succession. Yet he didn’t

have the voice or cough of a chain-smoker. And when he’d

smoked in the parking lot yesterday before meeting up with

the band, his hands had gotten progressively shakier, where

most people’s would’ve steadied after getting their fix.

Jude turned, and his spine suddenly straightened. A.J.

followed the trajectory of his gaze toward the motel and wasn’t at all surprised to see Connor walking across the parking lot, a duffel on his shoulder and a coffee cup in his hand. Both guys

wore dark sunglasses, but the lenses did nothing to temper the

poisonous glares that passed between them.

Then they quickly broke eye contact. Connor sipped his

coffee. Jude took a drag off his cigarette. Neither looked the

other’s way again.

Connor boarded the bus. He stashed his duffel and took

a seat at the table. Shiloh was sitting opposite him, playing on her phone, but neither spoke. After he’d fastened his seat belt, Connor gazed out the window as he nursed his coffee.

A moment later, Jude boarded. Connor’s gaze stayed

fixed on something outside. For his part, Jude focused

straight ahead as he continued into the back of the bus where

the racks were. Something unzipped, and something else

rustled, and then Jude returned, a pair of earbuds in his hand.

He found a seat that put some distance between himself and

Connor—a deliberate choice, no doubt—put in his earbuds,

and pulled his cap over his eyes.

The engines groaned, and the bus eased into motion. As

the bus rolled down the interstate, most of the band members

dozed, and thanks to the motion and the steady hum of road

noise, even A.J. drifted off.

43

The next thing he knew, the bus was decelerating and

nosing down an off-ramp. His bandmates were stirring too.

He sat up, yawning as he rubbed his stiff neck, and looked out

the window. They were somewhere in the middle of nowhere,

with nothing but a gas station and a junkyard to break up the

monotony of cornfields.

“I’m going in for more coffee,” Shiloh announced as the

bus pulled into the gas station. “Anybody want anything?”

Everyone raised a hand. A.J.’s temples were already

throbbing. Coffee? Yes,
please
.

“Of course,” she grumbled, and as soon as the bus had

come to a stop, she headed inside. One by one, the band

followed. They browsed the racks for junk food, caffeine,

and cigarettes before they paid and got back on board.

Richie and Jude both smoked, then joined everyone.

Sitting at the table across from Connor, Shiloh cleared

her throat. “So. I guess we should get rehearsing.”

Vanessa groaned. “I haven’t had nearly enough caffeine

for that.”

“You’re not the one who needs to rehearse.” Shiloh shot

Jude a look. “How about you? Had enough coffee yet?”

“I’m good.” Jude sat up. “My bass is in one of the

compartments under the bus, though.”

“Well.” She nodded toward the door. “We aren’t moving.”

Jude chuckled. “All right, all right.” He rose, throwing

over his shoulder, “Back in a second.”

Richie went with him, and the two returned with their

instruments. This wasn’t the best place for rehearsing, but

their opportunities were going to be limited and they were

short on time, so this would have to do.

Connor stayed in his seat, playing with the edge of his

coffee cup, while the rest of the band gathered in the cramped

44

living area, belting themselves in and making the most of

what little space they had. Since A.J. wouldn’t be much use

during this rehearsal, he sat across from Connor and stayed

out of the way.

He watched uneasily as Jude tuned his bass. Desperate