Page 2 of Jet

For the next few weeks I plan on relaxing, writing music, and enjoying somemetime. Lord knows, when it’s over it’ll be back on the road and balls to the wall once again. Which means more tour buses, airplanes, and hotels. I suppose it’s a small price to pay since it’s something I desperately wanted my entire life. Still, for someone like me it’s a hard pill to swallow. A catch twenty-two because of the demons that take up residence inside of me.

I’m not complaining, but it’s been difficult sharing a room with Trevor since my sleeping ritual is off the charts. I’m looking forward to my old habits and routines to give me a sense of peace. Being that I’ve been on my own since I was thirteen, it’s difficult sharing a space with others. It’s a good thing that I love Lucas, Willow, and Trevor like family. Otherwise, it would be difficult at best.

* * *

QUINN

Being on tour theselast few months has been both exhilarating and exhausting. It might have to do with a certain someone who refuses to acknowledge my existence. Well, that might be harsh—Jet knows I exist, but he refuses to speak to me one-on-one. As the band’s PR agent, it’s my job to put out the tiny brush fires before they become a full-on blaze. Destroying everything in their path.

Which is the number one reason I want to interview all of them myself. God knows—I’ve seen how damaging an interview from the media can be, and I despise how they can twist everything around to make someone out to be something they’re not. It’s the perfect way to end their career before it’s even begun. It’s so frustrating since Lucas, Willow, and Trevor all agreed to do an interview with me, but Jet flat out refused. I’ve said and done everything I can think of to convince him otherwise. I did my damnedest trying to convince him that I have his best interest at heart. And the stubborn ass still refuses to give me the time of day. Well, I sure as hell can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do, but I refuse to post only three interviews when there are four band members. That would clearly be out of place.

Truth be told, I know enough about each and every one of them. I could write up an interview, answers and all, but I’d like to get it straight from them. Perhaps I’ll call them all in, one-on-one, and do it that way. No pressure, maybe over brunch, asking questions with a few crepes and mimosas to butter them up. Surely, that’s the best way, if I know them at all. I should—I find you get to know a lot about someone when you spend every waking moment with them in a crowded tour bus, airplane, or a jam-packed SUV.

So, to say I’m looking forward to some alone time would be an understatement. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lucas, Trevor, and Willow like family, but knowing there won’t be any testosterone around for miles is liberating. Thank goodness for Willow and Abby who can calm the boys down quicker than a toddler with a lollipop! I just pray that two weeks will be enough time for everyone to gather their thoughts and jump back into the routine.

All the bands I’ve worked with in the past never took a break in between. They liked to keep the momentum going, and some have been known to last as long as one year! Morris Music, the company I work for, thought it best to giveThe Sinful Sevena short break. Especially since they understand that touring is grueling and a new experience for all of them. It can be overwhelming and very hard on their egos. I’m glad we chose this route. Three months on the road, two weeks off, and back on for three more months. Then they can collaborate as a band, put their heads together, and get ready for their next album. We’ll need to toss in a few music videos, too. Their fans loved the YouTube material, so we need to give them more of what they want. That will keep them on the top of the charts until their next album is released and another tour planned.

Since I’m not in town very often, I plan on visiting my parents as much as I can. It’s tough on them since I’m their only daughter. Growing up, our house was filled with tons of testosterone. I have five brothers—four older and one younger. I could tell you stories about all the fights, and don’t even get me started about them being protective of their little sister. Drew, the baby of our family, just graduated from NYU and decided to travel across the country, staying with each of us a few months before moving permanently to the West Coast. Once he’s there, the lot of us will truly be alone since we are scattered all over. Coming together only once in a blue moon to gather for the holidays. So, I can’t wait to spend some quality time with them and catch up on all the latest family gossip.

And I can’t forget about my girls, Nina, Traci, and Alisa. I definitely need to make some time to hang out with all of them, too. We always have so much damn fun when we’re all together and we’ve been known to get into a tiny bit of trouble. No worries. All Nina has to do is bat her long dark lashes at some random guy or police officer—yep it’s been known to happen—and everything’s forgiven. That girl should have been an actress instead of a divorce lawyer. Hmm, come to think of it, those two professions do have a lot in common. Acting comes in very handy when you’re in the courtroom fighting for your client. I’ll have to mention that to her next time we get together. I bet she’d get a kick out of my analogy. But today is all mine to do whatever I please. Tomorrow’s another day, or so they say.

Today I’m going to be soaking up the sun on my back deck while reading a good book. I might even pour myself a glass of wine or two and treat myself to Thai takeout. Why the hell not? After the hell Jet put me through over the last few months, I deserve to cut loose and enjoy all of the little things I’ve been missing out on. Like peace of mind.

I’m just a simple girl with simple needs, and it’s the little things in life that make me happy.

JET

It’sday two andI just crawled out of the shower for the first time. Yeah, not one of my proudest moments, but necessary. It took me that long to decompress, and now I’m just waiting on some much-needed sustenance currently being delivered by my favorite greasy joint, theHungry DogDiner, three blocks from here. I wasn’t ready to face the public just yet, so I’d rather give the dude a tip and pay a delivery fee than go get it myself. Maybe in a few days I’ll feel the need to wander outside, but there’s no rush since in this day and age it’s easy to be a recluse with all this online delivery.

When I hear a knock on my door, I slide my shirt over my damp skin. I swear the delivery guy can hear my belly rumble from the other side of the door. Unfortunately, when I pull the door open, there’s a woman standing there. Dressed to the nines in her skinny jeans, tank, and heels. Like, what the fuck.

“Well, thank heavens you’re not dead. I’ve called, texted, and almost dialed 911.” As you probably already guessed, the person glaring at me right now is not from the diner where I’m desperately waiting for my food. Quinn, the pain in my ass, is standing there with her hands on her hips. No, I do not want to invite her inside, but she takes it upon herself to slide between me and the door jamb!

“Last time I checked I was on hiatus, so I turned off my phone. Oh, and just because you’re our PR agent doesn’t give you permission to come and go as you please. What the hell are you doing here anyway? Tell me what was so damn important that it couldn’t wait for two more weeks?”

She bristles like I slapped her, and damn if it doesn’t piss me the fuck off, but if I don’t set any boundaries from the get-go she’ll try walking all over me. Not a happening thing. Ever.

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re the last person I wanted to see. You’re not the only one who was looking forward to some downtime. FYI, everyone’s on vacation but me. I’m still working to make sure everything is in place and running like clockwork for the next few months.” She tosses some papers on the table just when there’s another knock on the door. “When you have a minute, I just need your signature and then I won’t bother you again.”

Ignoring her, I jerk open the door and startle the girl standing there. Great—when her jaw hits the floor at the sight of me, I’m positive she knows who I am. With her hands shaking, she hands me my bag and gets ready to bolt. “Hey pretty girl, don’t run off before I pay you.” Yeah, I hear a snicker from behind me and maybe it was a dick move, but I kinda did that for Quinn’s benefit.

“You’re Jet fromThe Sinful Sevenand I can’t even right now.”

I saunter over, my hair still wet from the shower, bend down, and whisper in her ear, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your friends where I live. Ya know, if it got out my apartment might be bombarded with people and that wouldn’t be a good thing.”

“I swear I won’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and she shudders. I’m going to hell, but then again, after my sordid past it was a given anyway.

“I’ll tell ya what. For being such a great fan, I’ll hook you up with concert tickets the next time we’re in town.” Using my thumb, I point over my shoulder at Quinn. “She’ll make sure you get four tickets for you and your friends next time around.” She practically comes in her yoga pants when I slip her a fifty and tell her to keep the change. Hey, what can I say? I got moves. I just choose not to use them too often.

“I might be your agent, Jet, but I’m not your gopher. You can bring her your own damn tickets. Now please sign these papers so I can get the hell out of here.” Touchy.

“I won’t sign a damn thing until I read it, and right now I’m eating while my dinner is still hot. So leave them and I’ll look it over when it’s convenient for me.” She huffs as I grab a plate and sit at the island, pushing the papers away so I don’t get grease all over them. No way is she going to trick me into doing a damn interview if that’s what she’s thinking.

“Believe me, if I could have had someone else sign them I would, but Lucas and Abby are in Aruba, Willow is out of town, and Trevor is too. Apparently, everyone’s gone except the two of us so I had no other choice. One signature is all I need to represent the band, and that would be you.”

What part doesn’t she understand? I’m eating first, and if it’s band related you can bet your ass I’ll be reading it first. I might need to run it by Mr. Miller, too.

A loud rumble interrupts our conversation and I’d laugh, but this time it wasn’t me. Looking over my shoulder as I shovel food in my mouth, I capture Quinn’s stare. Dammit. Why does this girl torment me so? I push over the other burger and pat the seat next to me. I’m a prick, but after the childhood I’ve had I would feed an army if I could.

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