Running with Scissors (8 page)

dick moves, plain and simple. There were only so many ways

he could apologize, only so many ways he could express how

much he knew he’d fucked up.

Finally, he decided on a different approach. “You want to

know what I’ve been doing since I left?”

She cocked her head, but nodded again.

“Would you believe I’ve been pushing a desk?”

Shiloh’s eyes widened. She pointed at him and

mouthed
You?

“Yeah. Me. And yes, it was miserable. Especially since I’d

spend my breaks googling the band and seeing what you guys

were up to.”

53

Her chin dipped slightly, and she arched an eyebrow as if

to say,
Really?

He nodded. “Especially after I’d heard you guys had

signed. I kept watching because I was curious how things

were going, and because I was . . .” He cleared his throat.

“Look, what I’m getting at is that I was doing it to beat

myself up. And to remind myself that I’d pissed away the

opportunity to be there with you guys. Not just signed and

touring, but . . . playing music with my friends like I’ve been doing since middle school. I’m not kidding when I say I’ve

regretted everything for the last year and a half. Not a single day has gone by that I haven’t hated what my life has become,

and hated myself for making it turn out that way. I missed

my friends. I missed the music. I even missed Connor. And

yeah, I envied your success, but mostly, I . . .”

He swallowed, forcing that fucking lump back. “The

thing is, I’m hoping that by filling in for Wyatt now, I

can make even some of that right. Because I miss being a

musician. I miss playing music and just being with you guys.

Yeah, I wanted all this.” He gestured at their surroundings.

“And it’s nice to get a taste of it, even temporarily, but it’s not the same because the band is barely speaking to me. I’m

not saying I blame any of you. I just, you know, hope we can

eventually find a way to bury the hatchet.”

Shiloh didn’t say, mouth, or type anything, and the silence

made his skin crawl. The band had been through stupid

immaturity-fueled fights when they were teenagers, and had

come out stronger on the other side, but he didn’t know how

to fix it this time. He didn’t know if it could be fixed.

“The thing is, we were all good friends once. You guys

basically
are
my childhood. I don’t expect everyone to forget what I did and let it go, especially not overnight, but what can 54

I do to at least
try
to go back to—” His voice cracked, and he stopped, lowering his gaze. “I miss you guys.”

After a moment, Shiloh reached across the table. He

hadn’t even realized he’d been drumming his wrapped fingers

until her hand stilled his. His raw skin buzzed with the

lingering vibration, throbbing beneath the tape. Under

the table, he started tapping his heel, nerves increasing the

tempo until his knee was shaking.

With her other hand, Shiloh typed out another

message—a much longer one this time—before she turned

the phone around and slid it toward him.

Everybody just needs time. It hurt when you left. But I think
they want you back. & you know Connor. He doesn’t let things
go easily. Give him time. He’ll be the last to come around, but
he will
.

That lump rose in Jude’s throat again as he pushed the

phone back. “You really think they do? Want me back, I

mean?”

He didn’t know what to make of her split-second

hesitation, but when she smiled, it seemed genuine.

His heel kept tapping beneath the table. “I am so sorry,

Shiloh. I hurt everybody, and there’s all this tension because

of . . .” He exhaled. “I am so sorry.”

Squeezing his hand, Shiloh smiled. Then she got up

and came around to his side of the table. To his surprise,

she hugged him, and in his ear, she whispered, “I’m glad

you’re back.”

Jude squeezed his eyes shut and hugged her tighter.

“Me too.”

55

Later that evening, most of the band had gone off to find

food, but Jude had hung back. Eyes closed, he leaned against

the bus and slowly blew out a lungful of smoke. This was his

third cigarette in an hour, and he wondered more than once

if he’d finish off the pack before the night was through. So

much for music tempering the need for nicotine. Turned

out that being in close proximity to people he’d screwed over

didn’t help with stress levels.

But at least he’d made some headway settling things with

Shiloh. Now he had enough confidence to approach Richie,

and when he had half a chance, he fully intended to do so.

Vanessa would be a challenge—hopefully she just needed

some time. If Jude was honest with himself, so did he.

And Connor, well . . . he’d cross that bridge if the band

kept him long enough to get there.

Until then, he hoped his meager savings could handle two

packs a day or more.

Beside him, the bus door opened, and he turned just as

A.J. stepped out in a half-zipped hoodie.

“Oh. Hey.” A.J. smiled shyly, closing the door behind him.

“Didn’t realize you were out here.”

Jude gestured with his cigarette. “Outdoor habit.”

“True.” A.J. paused. “I’m, um . . .” He cleared his throat

and gestured toward the other end of the parking lot. “I was

going to get some food. Do you want me to bring anything

back for you?” Another pause. “Or, you know, if you want to

come with me . . .”

Jude mulled it over. Now that he thought about it, he was

hungry. Quite hungry, actually. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“No. No, of course not. It’d be kind of nice to not eat

alone.”

56

Jude dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel.

“Most people
want
to be alone after being in a sardine can with the rest of the group.”

Chuckling, A.J. shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah.” He didn’t

offer anything more, though, and Jude didn’t push the issue.

Together, they started across the parking lot. In

twenty-four hours, it would be wall-to-wall cars—

Schadenfreude almost always sold out—but for now, it was

deserted.

He shifted his attention to the soft-spoken drummer

beside him. Tomorrow they’d be performing together for the

first time, and he was still struggling to imagine A.J. onstage.

The band’s percussion lines were always hard and wild—not

something to be played by the faint of heart. And A.J. just

didn’t seem . . . aggressive enough.

Shy drummers weren’t that unusual, but every move A.J.

made and every word he said bordered on apologetic. Still,

if Running with Scissors had hired him on, then he could

obviously hold his own behind a drum set. It was just difficult to picture, and now that Jude thought about it, that made A.J.

intriguing in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

A.J. glanced at him, and Jude realized he’d been watching

him out of the corner of his eye long enough to be conspicuous.

He quickly focused ahead, though he didn’t have a clue what

to say to divert the awkwardness.

After a more few steps, A.J. asked, “So, you’ve never played

a stadium before?”

“Nope.” Jude laughed quietly. “To be honest, I have no

idea what to expect.”

“It’s kind of overwhelming the first time.” A.J. paused,

his shoulders bunching a little as he slid his hands into his

pockets. “At least Schadenfreude is good to work with.

57

And they let us have a sound check. I mean it’s short, but at

least they’re willing to
give
their opening act a sound check.”

“That’s a plus.”

They continued from the parking lot to the sidewalk,

then followed it toward some shops and restaurants. After a

while, Jude asked, “So, how was the tour going before all the

shit with Wyatt and Connor?”

“Good. It was going good.” A.J. slid his hands deeper into

his pockets and kept his gaze fixed on the pavement. “Chaotic,

but I guess that’s part of touring.”

Jude laughed dryly. “Keeps it from getting boring, right?”

“Something like that.” A.J. paused. “I can’t believe this is

your first tour.”

“Believe it. Running with Scissors is the only band I’ve

ever been in, and we just played locally.”

A.J. was quiet for a moment. “Did you miss it?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Even the really rough years

when no one would give us the time of day.”

“Yeah?”

Jude nodded. “We played in some of the shittiest clubs.

Hell, we played for some school dances when we started.”

He sighed, looking out at the road but not really focusing

on anything in the present. “Sometimes there were maybe a

dozen people in the room. But goddamn, it was addictive.”

Beside him, A.J. shivered. “Yeah. It really is, isn’t it?” He

turned. “So are you looking forward to it? The bigger venues?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

A.J. grinned, and Jude’s spine tingled even before the

drummer quietly said, “Just wait until tomorrow.”

Jude swept his tongue across his lips. “I’m looking forward

to it.”

58

A.J.’s grin broadened. The knowing look in his eyes did

nothing to put that tingling to rest. Jesus.

Then he faced forward again and cleared his throat as he

gestured at something up ahead. “This place looks decent.

Want to try it?”

Jude shook himself, trying to get that grin and tomorrow’s

show out of his mind long enough to answer. The place A.J.

had indicated was a burger joint. Not top of the line, probably the kind of shop that catered to people heading into or out

of the stadium, but the smell of burgers on the grill made

Jude’s mouth water.

“Yeah. Sure. That’ll work.” He smiled. “After you.”

59

could’ve sworn his stomach had been growling

a.j.earlier. That was the whole reason he’d ventured

off the bus in the first place. And the food in here smelled

absolutely amazing.

But standing here now, staring up at the electronic menus

above the cashier’s head, he went completely blank.

“A.J.?” Jude nudged him with his elbow. “You know what

you want?”

Probably something I shouldn’t have.

“Um . . .” A.J. quickly cleared his throat, heat rushing into

his cheeks. “I’ll just have a regular cheeseburger and fries.”

The cashier shot him a puzzled look—
It took you
that
long
to decide you wanted the basics?
—but she rang him up without a word. He paid her and took his cup over to the soda fountain

to fill it while Jude placed his order.

A.J. snagged an empty booth near the back. Both hands

around his cold cup of Coke, he watched Jude from the corner

of his eye. Though he couldn’t quite explain why, Jude fucked

with his head just by being there. Yeah, he was a musical god.

Yeah, he was hot. But A.J. had been around good-looking,

talented musicians before. What the hell?

60

He took a deep swallow of Coke. He wasn’t even sure

what had possessed him to extend the invitation to Jude. Well,

besides the fact that Jude had been standing there, and it had

seemed like the polite thing to do, but he should’ve known

it wouldn’t bode well for his appetite. Or his nerves. Or his

fucking brain.

Everything about Jude threw him. For God’s sake, this

afternoon he’d picked up a bass and played almost every one

of the band’s songs with all the ease of playing a scale. Even the songs Wyatt had struggled with, the ones he’d rehearsed until

his fingers bled, were nothing for Jude. And allegedly, the bass wasn’t even his strongest instrument. If he ever touched the

drums . . .

No, A.J. wasn’t intimidated in the slightest.

And he couldn’t hate Jude for his musical prowess, but it

didn’t seem fair that the dude also had eyes that fucked with

A.J.’s body temperature, tattoos that pulled A.J.’s focus right to his powerful muscles, or . . . anything, really. A.J. couldn’t put his finger on anything he didn’t like about Jude. Well,

aside from the fact that he couldn’t literally put his finger on any of it.

He shook himself and shifted his attention to his receipt,

as if the printout of his order was somehow more interesting

than the drummer-turned-bassist who screwed up his balance

and jeopardized his position within the band.

He exhaled. That was why he’d invited Jude along, wasn’t

it? To make some kind of subtle preemptive peace offering.

Gain an ally before Jude had a chance to turn into an enemy.

And maybe steal a few glances. Jude was intense.

Something about him—something beyond musical talents

and raw good looks—intrigued A.J. Maybe it was knowing

61

that this was a guy who’d been with Connor for a good many

years. After al , Connor was
not
for the faint of heart.

Oblivious to A.J.’s mind coming unraveled, Jude slid into

the booth across from him.

“I hope this place is as good as it smells.” Jude set his receipt down beside his drink. “Because I am fucking starving.”

“You and me both.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true

anymore, but A.J. didn’t really want to explain why his