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So much for classing it up at a country club.
Jazz understood where Lila was coming from, considering how many music industry bigwigs might be in attendance tonight, but Ripper Records must be insane if they expected anything better from a band like Oblivion. Or, for that matter, any of the other talent invited to this shindig. A bunch of guys—and a girl—in their early-to-mid-twenties couldn’t be counted on to know anything about decorum.
Especially when one of them really liked being naked. At all times.
Jazz wrinkled her nose as Simon swayed a little too close. “God, go shower, you pig.”
“Come with?” He waggled his brows and she couldn’t help laughing. Things had been strained between them for a while—between the entire band, truthfully—but it was almost Christmas and even fractured families didn’t fight then.
She was counting on that this year, big time.
“In your dreams, perv.” She giggled as he snatched her wrist and began binding them together mummy-style with the streamers. “I need to start carrying a pocket-sized air freshener for you. Which do you prefer? Pine-fresh or Cherry Banana?”
“My banana would love a crack at your cherry, Pixie Dust.” Grinning, Simon folded her arms in tight to her chest and pulled on the streamers as he leaned down to take a loud sniff of her hair. “Mmm. You smell good enough to—” He stopped, straightened. “Hey, Gray.”
Jazz stopped wriggling against Simon and sucked in a quick breath. Relax. Don’t freak.
She’d just treat Gray as if he was her buddy, like Simon. He might as well be, since he barely even hugged her anymore. Even occasional kisses on her forehead were practically unheard of nowadays.
It had been a long eight months since the day in that basement apartment in Carson where everything had changed between them. Yet way too much was the same. She didn’t know how that could be possible, but it was.
She lifted her head and glanced toward the doorway, inhaling again at the sight of the guy who had been her best friend for so long that seeing him was like looking at her own face. His spiky dark hair framed his stormcloud eyes and his left lip curled under just a smidge as he smiled. When he smiled.
He didn’t give her a smile tonight. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at her and Simon. He was focused on his phone, his thumbs moving so fast that they were barely a blur as they danced over the keys. Guitarists fingered fast, all right.
She knew that from really personal experience.
“Thought he looked over here,” Simon said against her cheek. “Guess not.”
“Maybe he did.” She shrugged and pushed off the solid wall of male muscle behind her, breaking the streamers that held them together. “Why don’t you go soak in some Clorox while I get some eats?” Refusing to look Gray’s way again, she pasted on a smile and turned around just in time to catch Simon’s surprisingly pensive expression.
If Simon knew something was up, things were worse than she thought.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll even go spray down the apartment with Lysol, just for you, baby.” Simon patted her on the head and toddled off, still wrapped in the streamers she didn’t have the heart to take back. The oversized man-child sure liked his toys.
A tall redhead wearing a tissue-sized dress beelined for Simon and he palmed her ass as if he wasn’t draped in pet-festooned streamers. The redhead barely blinked a false eyelash before they meandered off, probably to the closest bathroom.
God. Men.
Sighing, Jazz reached down to adjust her scarf. It wasn’t like it was cold in southern California, but she’d tucked her knitting needles in her purse in case she got bored and needed to kill some time. Normally she would’ve just hidden behind her iPhone and taped everything to put up on Oblivion’s YouTube page, but she’d dropped the stupid thing in the shower last night before their throwback show at Frenzy and it was currently stashed in a bucket of dried fried rice on the counter in their apartment.
Old Chinese food probably wasn’t the kind of rice she should’ve dried her phone in, but they didn’t have actual rice at the moment. When Harper didn’t cook for them, no one cooked. Leftover Chinese no one had touched in a month was a different story. Besides, waste not, want not, right?
A pair of beat-up boots appeared at the edge of her vision and she glanced up, shocked to find herself eye-to-eye with Gray. Well, more like eye-to-holy-fucking-impressive-chest on account of her midget status, but whatever. “Hey.” She gripped her scarf and tilted back her head, sending one of her mass of tiny braids tumbling into her face. She shook it back and smiled. “Didn’t know if you were going to show. You don’t have to work tonight?”
Gray shrugged, the movement emphasizing how his black vest hung on his shoulders in a way it hadn’t a year ago—also known as pre-Oblivion days. He wore the vest with a crisp white shirt, creased khakis and heavy black boots. The look was better suited to an office drone than a kickass guitarist, but he’d always moved to the beat of his own drummer.
Her fingers flexed around the scarf, tapping reflexively. She wished he’d move to her beat now and then, but good frigging luck there.
“I texted Vito and they don’t need me tonight,” he said after a moment, slowly bringing his gaze back to hers. His gorgeous expressive eyes were hazy and unfocused with dark smudges beneath them that sleep never seemed to improve.
An unnamed fear curdled in her gut the longer she stared at him. He was right there, so close she could touch, but he might as well have been on another planet. “What I don’t get is why you need them.” Her voice came out sharper than she’d intended. “You’re making money now at a real job. Why can’t you just relax when you have a couple of weeks at home?”
Gray’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t guaranteed. None of this is.” He gestured to the banquet hall. “So we have a little cash right now. It can be gone like that.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face and she jerked back, stumbling into yet another hard body that she figured must be Simon. Had he circled back around somehow?
She looked back and locked eyes with Oblivion’s other guitarist, Nick. Awesome. She took a hasty step away. When Gray was in a mood—as he was too often nowadays—her being too close to Nick wouldn’t help. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense, since he didn’t seem to want to be near her very often himself, but God forbid anyone else tried to make a move.
“Problem, kids?” Nick’s voice curled around her like smoke. “I heard you two bickering even over Pretty Boy trying to slide his hot sausage sandwich to some record company exec.”
