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Sometimes dealing with men was just too much trouble. Even sinfully hot guitarists with wickedly talented fingers. And wickedly talented…other things.
Especially when you had to sleep down the hall from the guy you were crushing on—or fucking. Or guys, plural.
Jazz shuddered. Never again. She’d played and paid once because of an ill-timed hormone spike. And okay, yes, fear. That had played a huge role in why she’d pursued Nick. Nick had wanted her. Gray did not. Or if he did, he couldn’t quite seem to say the words, which made no sense. He’d never had trouble pursuing other women.
For shit’s sake, she’d seen the scarlet red bra left behind in his bedroom a couple of months ago, hadn’t she? Evidence was evidence. It had been tempting to pretend Gray had turned to cross-dressing, but nope.
He’d obviously dipped his wick after they’d been together. A night that had concluded with her having a very wet back and a whole lot of frustration in spite of the multiple climaxes.
But that was then and this was now. She knew who she wanted and she wasn’t giving up without a fight. Curling up in a ball at the very thought of trying to tell Gray how she felt wasn’t an option.
“Dude, you’re eating my food and shuddering. I’m not happy about this.”
Jazz laughed again as she zeroed in on Harper’s cute little frown. The head chef on Oblivion’s tour was a whiz in the kitchen, and now she was saddled with them forever since she’d signed on the dotted line permanently with Deak. Her gaze dropped to Harper’s honking diamond and a sigh escaped. “God, I am so jealous of you.” She seized her friend’s hand and indulged in a good, long stare fest. “So damn jealous. You got yourself a fine man, sistah friend.”
“I sure did.” Harper grinned brightly enough to compete with the twinkling Christmas tree in the corner. “So when are you going to get yourself a fine man? Like, say, one super-hot guitarist who has turned brooding into an Olympic sport?”
Jazz let Harp go to pick at her other pig in a blanket. It really was delicious, as all of Harper’s creations were, but she had next to no appetite now that it was almost time to set her little seduction plan in motion. It had felt like a smart idea when she’d been concocting it in the safety of her bedroom. Now? Not so much.
What if everything blew up in her face and she pushed Gray even further away? Then what? It wasn’t like they could take some time apart and let the wound scab over. They had to see each other every day and night. Had to work as part of a cohesive unit.
If any of the band members were having issues, it affected everyone—as they’d seen right before they had made the decision to leave Trident for Ripper Records. Oblivion had come scarily close to breaking up, and they still weren’t totally back to rights.
“What’s wrong? You’re not acting like yourself.” Harp wrapped an arm around Jazz’s shoulders and guided her to the food table, loading up her plate with an assortment of yummy-looking appetizers and snacks. “Sometimes you just need to dish with a girlfriend. Until I arrived, you were stuck in a testosterone trap twenty-four/seven. So c’mon, spill.”
Jazz had to laugh. Truer words… “Speaking of men, where’s your long, tall drink of testosterone tonight? I haven’t seen him all evening.”
Harp grinned widely, as any newlywed should. “He’s actually helping me out in the kitchen. The country club was short-staffed if you could believe it, and they were happy to have us help. Some crazy flu bug took down most of the staff in one fell swoop.”
“Oh, great. Now I really need my Lysol wipes.” Jazz tugged Deak’s phone out of her pocket and offered it sheepishly to her friend. “I, ah, borrowed your hubby’s phone. Mine’s drying out in Fu Wong’s pork special.”
Harper let out a snort. “So, let’s go back to the super-hot, broody guitarist.”
“Which one?” Jazz hedged, so wishing she had the prop of her iPhone to hide behind. With all of the music people in attendance, tonight’s party would be prime Instagram and YouTube material. A few impromptu jam sessions would probably break out before night’s end, and she’d have to hope Simon was on the ball in recording some of them and not getting balled.
Fat freaking chance there.
Harper picked up a section of Clementine orange and daintily sucked on the end. “You are so transparent I can practically see your heart beating. You know who.” Harper leaned in and batted her eyes. “Gray.”
Jazz wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Harper had figured out her feelings so easily. “I was afraid you were going to say Nick.”
“Nick’s your frosting, Gray’s the whole cake. Both taste good, but one’s mostly sugar and the other’s real sustenance.”
“Yeah well, right now, I’m starving to death,” Jazz muttered, glancing around as a low hum in the room indicated some VIPs had arrived.
In strolled the Rebel Rage boys, led by their swaggering lead singer Johnny Cage, who was outdoing Simon by not just doing two chicks in an hour, but at one time. They hung off each of his arms like cheap body ornaments, their fingers clutching his belt buckle while they whispered in his ear. All the while, Johnny seethed.
“What were you saying about brooding?” Jazz asked Harper, earning a peal of laughter that Harper cut off sharply once Johnny swung his stony gaze their way.
Johnny was not a fan of Oblivion, though in recent months some of the animosity had cooled down. That was due in no small part to the fact that Lila would put up absolutely no guff from anyone, especially two bands that she’d brought to the label. Since Oblivion was too new on the scene to have beef with anyone, it hadn’t been a big deal for them to shelve any issues, at least until Deak had put a deserved hurting on Johnny and Killian when they’d gotten in his face one too many times.
After that, Johnny hadn’t made a secret of his wanting some O blood. He just kept a lid on it around Lila.
Apparently he’d tied a few on tonight or else he’d given up giving a fuck about record company politics for the holidays, because he abandoned his brigade of females to stalk toward Harper and Jazz. And he did not look happy.
“Good evening, ladies. I see you’ve got some mighty good looking things to offer.” He leered at Harper’s body before giving Jazz the same treatment. Eventually his gaze landed on Jazz’s plate and his mouth ticked up in a chilly smile. “Good enough to eat.”
“Sorry, buddy, don’t think you could handle what I’d offer you. It’d start with two fingers in the eye and my knee in your nuts. Assuming you have some.”
