Page 4 of Jet

I’m home.

“Look what the hell the cat dragged in.” Mack quickly wipes his hands on a dishtowel and rushes over to give me a hug. When he pulls me in and his beefy arms wrap around my tall frame, I choke back the fucking tears that threaten to break me. “I missed you, boy. How long have you been back?”

“Just a few days, but I can see I came just in time. Looks like you need a dishwasher today, huh?” He laughs, his big belly shaking against mine.

“Those damn kids have no work ethic, I swear. Calling in sick and it’s not even summertime yet. I’m sure a big rockstar like yourself has better things to do than help out an old man like me.”

Pulling away before I cry like a damn pussy, I stare at the kindest man I’ve ever known. “There’s no place else I’d rather be, Mack. Seriously. If you can promise to keep the teeny boppers out of my way, I’m rolling up my sleeves to give you a hand. There’s nothing like a hard day of manual labor to get my fix.”

“I can’t promise they won’t recognize a hot shot like you, but I’ll keep them as far away as possible. Hey, I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair hidden inside that beanie. Oh, and those track pants and long sleeve shirt will surely scare them away.” With a wink, he throws an apron at me that has his logo etched across the front. The wordsHungry Dog Dinerstand out in big bold letters.

I don’t have time to waste by reminiscing, so I roll up the end of my sleeves and dig right in. There’s a shit ton of dishes to catch up on, and it doesn’t take me long to find a rhythm just like back in the old days.

The diner is slamming when I swap out my first clean load of dishes for the dirty ones. Of course I get a few curious stares from the rest of the kitchen staff. They think I’m a new guy but I just continue doing what I’m doing and mind my own business.

Mack peeks his head in every now and again to make sure the kitchen’s running smoothly and to grab a few orders that are ready to be delivered. He’s always helping out which is the reason his business is always booming. He’s truly one of the good guys.

After several hours, I’m ready for a break, but I’d never take one without someone to replace me. That’s how I roll, and as pissed as I was with Lucas last night I’d never leave the band high and dry. If it came down to me quitting, I’d make sure they had a replacement before walking away. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was glad he let me skip my interview. He promised he’d create a fluff piece that would keep everyone happy. As long as I can read it before it goes public, it’s all good.

I can’t help smiling when I see people pointing fingers, and hear whispering behind my back like I’m oblivious to the whole thing. Yeah, it makes me uncomfortable as hell since I thrive on anonymity, but it’s kind of hard to do now thatThe Sinful Seven’sname is on everyone’s lips. I know this is what I’ve been wanting for so long and maybe one day I won’t need to look over my shoulder. For now, it makes me uncomfortable. Do they know I’m just a runaway? Or are they whispering because I’m the best bassist around?

If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s to stop being so damn paranoid. Not every face in the crowd is going to behis. Besides, what are the odds I’d randomly come face-to-face with my ruin in an old diner?

Mack enters and takes one look at my grimy apron. “Boy, you need a break.” He turns to Harold, one of Mack’s oldest and most loyal cooks, and says, “Harold, we need two burgers with the works and spicy fries to go. Jet and I have both worked up a hell of an appetite and since he’s volunteering his time, least I can do is feed him.” Harold’s been here forever so he knows exactly who I am. The rest of the kitchen staff has no clue.

“Coming right up, Boss.” He pauses his orders and gets going on ours. I feel a bit guilty but I’ll get over it.

“Let’s go out back so we can talk. Harold will bring it to us when he’s finished, right?” Harold nods in answer and Mack grabs us a few beers out of the fridge before getting ready to head out. It feels like old times and I sure do miss it.

“Hey, I’ll meet you out back,” I say to Mack. “I just want to switch out these dishes and set myself up for when my break’s over. Food should be ready by then. I’ll bring it out so Harold won’t miss a beat with the orders. It’s slamming in here today!”

“You always did put others before your own needs, didn’t ya, boy?”

The name “boy” doesn’t make me flinch like it did when I was younger. I’ve learned that it’s his term of endearment since he has a hard time voicing how he feels. Well, join the club, Mack. Join the club.

Grabbing a load of piping hot dishes straight out of the dishwasher, I stride into the dining room with my head held low. Imagine my surprise when I come face-to-face with Quinn.

What the ever-loving fuck is she doing here?

* * *

QUINN

Thankfully, Lucas wasable to wave the olive branch and Jet accepted it. Reluctantly, I might add, and I don’t blame him since he thinks we blindsided him. Which we kind of did and I feel horrible for going ahead with Lucas’s stupid plan. Being their PR agent, I should have realized it was unethical in so many ways. If Jet wanted to seek revenge, he could easily file a complaint with Morris Music and I could lose my job. I’m hoping it won’t come down to that so from now on I really need to abide by his rules and stay far away. No more playing the avenging angel swooping in to save him. Hell, you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

Being alone with him last night would have been perfect if those damn papers didn’t come between us. Stupid, I’m so stupid. I should have torn them up and told him the truth. That I was there just to get to know him better when no one else was around. I feel like everyone has opened up to me except him and I just want him to know if the time comes, I’m a good listener.

Dammit, I blew that big time.

What better way to wallow in self-pity than to stuff my face with food. I’m in the mood for another greasy burger he shared with me last night and, lucky for me, I have a photographic memory. So off I go to theHungry Dog Dinerto get me some.

The place is jam-packed and there’s not a parking spot to be had. I circle the block a few more times before deciding to walk the few blocks. I could use the exercise since I’m sure all of the food I’ll be ordering will put me over my calorie limit for the day. Maybe even the week!

Goodness gracious, the scents that waft through the air as I walk inside are addicting. Onions, greasy fries, and the scent of spices is orgasmic. My mouth waters just thinking about my first bite. I read the menu board while standing in line, and everything sounds so delicious. Maybe I should have ordered ahead to save some time, since they’re slamming, but I can always take it to go. No biggie.

The line’s moving fast so I decide on the double bacon burger and the spicy fries just as I slide up to the counter. I’m just about to place my order when the kitchen doors swing open and blue eyes hold mine.

What the hell’s Jet doing here?

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