Page 8 of How to Catch a Rockstar

Cash, Dylan, Fender, and Gibson are the other members of Cash & the Sinners. Usually, the five are as thick as thieves. But Jett obviously doesn’t want them to know he crashed and burned at the surfing competition. I can use this to my advantage.

“Shall I message them to ask what they think?”

“No.” He shakes his head but then grimaces.

He’s obviously in pain and I won’t have it. I dig through the bag of medicines for his pain pills. I remove one before filling a glass with water. I shove the items at Jett. He holds up his hands and backs away.

“I don’t need any painkiller.”

“Liar. Your face is pasty white and you have brackets around your mouth. You’re in pain.”

“I can muddle through it.”

I shake the pill at him. “Take the pill or I’m calling the band.”

“Go ahead.”

How cute. He thinks I’m bluffing. I’m not. I don’t have any problem contacting the band.

Jett may be daring and adventurous but he’s also prone to accidents. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve had to delay a concert because he broke a bone. And since the band is one big family, they won’t let him forget about his mishaps. No, they’ll rub in his klutziness the way a family does.

My stomach clenches at the idea of family. Something I no longer have. But I ignore the emptiness. I’m used to it by now.

I set the glass and pill on the side table near the door and dig my phone out of my pocket.

“Fine,” Jett growls before snatching the water and swallowing the pill.

“Was that so hard?”

He waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve swallowed worse.”

I barely hold in my eye roll. “What are you? Five-years-old?”

“I’m thirty-one but I can pretend to be younger if it floats your boat.”

I nudge him toward the sofa. “Go sit down and get comfortable.”

He settles on the sofa and glances around. “What do you expect me to do? Watch television?” He nearly gags at the word television.

“What’s wrong with television?”

“It’s boring.”

“If you believe tv is boring, you, my friend, have been watching the wrong shows.” I pick up the remote control. “Be prepared to have your mind blown.”

He snorts. “Unless you’re going to do a strip tease for me, I doubt my mind will be blown.”

My entire body goes up in flames at the idea of doing a strip tease for Jett, but I force the excitement away. Good thing I’m used to ignoring my body’s wants and needs when he’s around.

“I need my pole to perform my act, but it’s gone. The neighbors complained when I blasted I See Red while I practiced.”

I bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing when he visibly gulps. “You have a pole?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He holds out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

“No. You have your own phone.”

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