Page 5 of Jet

We both freeze like deer caught in the headlights. I’m the first to speak when the clerk asks me again for my order.

“Um, sorry. Can I have the number three with the spicy fries and a medium diet cola? Thanks.” I hear the bastard snicker when I asked for my diet soda. Yeah, I’m one of those stupid girls who thinks the diet soda balances out all the calories from the nasty food I’m going to devour in a hot second.

I should move over like all the other customers do while waiting for their order, but I’m glued to the spot watching Jet unload dishes before grabbing the dirty ones. If I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, I never would have believed it for a second. I mumble something to the clerk about waiting outside since it’s too hot in here when he snickers again.

Man, does he think it’s because he’s all hot, sweaty, and delicious? Holy hell, I didn’t just go there, did I? Yes, I did, and I’ll be the first to admit that he’s sexy as all hell. Big time. But he’s off limits and he’s made it abundantly clear that he hates my guts and wants nothing to do with me. So, I don’t need to be told twice. I storm out the door. The cool breeze feels good against my heated skin, so I wait outside for my food to be ready.

I’m stunned when someone grabs my arm, hauling me into the alley before I have a chance to run. I pity the person since I’m kicking and screaming and trying to claw at his face.

“Quinn, what the fuck!” My heart’s beating out of my chest when I realize it’s Jet and not some psycho.

“Are you fucking crazy? I could have killed you for fuck’s sakes!” His smug look tells me all I need to know. In a nanosecond my gun is pressed against his forehead, and by the stunned look on his face I think it’s safe to say he’s shocked. I’m a woman who lives alone in New York, of course I have my permit. I’m stupid but I’m not suicidal. He just caught me off guard is all.

“Seriously? You’re stalking me but I’m the one with a gun to my head?” Is this guy for real? I have no idea what his deal is. I need to stop this once and for all.

“You forget that I’m not one of your groupies following you around like a puppy in heat. I’m your agent and the best one around. So refrain from talking to me like that or we will have some serious issues. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and for some reason you always bite my head off. It stops here and now, you got it? Otherwise, I might need to call Caleb and let him know I can’t work with the band and that would be detrimental to everyone involved. Including you. Now if you’ll excuse me, thanks to you, I’m addicted to the damn burgers I had last night. Thank you very much.”

I don’t bother waiting around for an apology. I march my ass into the diner, grab my food, and get the hell out before Mr. Vicious knows what hit him. I’m so done playing nice. If he thinks I’m such a bitch, he hasn’t seen anything yet.

It takes me a few minutes to walk back to my car because there’s no stopping a pissed-off Quinn. Ask my five brothers, they know firsthand.

I’m so angry that I don’t remember driving home, and that’s stupid on my part. But the food more than makes up for the confrontation I had with Jet. I’m slurping the last of my soda when my phone pings with an incoming text.

Lucas:We need to have a meeting when we get back home. If this tour is going to happen, we all need to be on the same page, including you. Jet is a ticking time bomb and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry I got you involved.

JET

After the confrontationI had with Quinn at the diner yesterday, I’m crawling out of my skin. She pulled a damn gun on me! Like what the fuck. Yes, I’m sure I scared her shitless since I practically dragged her into the alley.

What did I expect? That she’d go willingly? Hell, she must have thought I was going to mug her, or worse. I’m such an idiot. This right here is what I’m talking about. Sometimes I see red and that’s what happened when I thought she was stalking me.

I was so pissed I called Lucas and ruined his vacation, but hey, it’s only fair since he did the same to mine. Going behind my back and sending Quinn to my place to sign those damn papers. What the hell was he thinking? Now we’re having a meeting as soon as he gets home to clear the air. The fuck good that’s going to do. She’s still going to be a damn thorn in my side.

Ah, fuck it. I’m not going to spend the rest of my downtime worrying about her. She’s a big girl and I’m sure she’s dealt with more than her fair share of egotistical rock bands and inflated egos. I thought everything was going halfway decent until Lucas stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. Something he’s never done before. Ever. Which is the reason this bothers me so damn much. Why did he get involved at all?

Unless payback’s a bitch? It’s a possibility since I went behind his back to give his dad a ticket to our first concert. In my defense, I knew Lucas would regret it when everything was said and done, since his dad’s the reason he got started as a musician. I get why he was pissed, I do. His dad had no right to hold onto a secret for years that could have changed Lucas’s life for the better if he’d known. In the end, it all worked out. His father admitted that Arisha was his birth mom and I’d like to think I played a small part in their reconciliation.

This is a prime example of why I never let down my guard. It’s the reason why I don’t trust people, because no matter how hard I try, they always let me down in one way or another. And maybe I’m reading too much into this Quinn and Lucas thing. I know he’s hell bent on all of us getting along, and believe me I’m doing my best. But there’s something about Quinn that I just can’t put my finger on. I’m so used to people I love hurting me beyond belief that I just wait for it to happen again. I’m my own worst enemy, I suppose. So I need to start building up those walls and keep them strong, resilient, and impenetrable again.

Mack is the exception to the rule. He’s the only one who’s never let me down. My shelter in the storm and apparently the only one who truly has my back. He knew something happened when I finally joined him for lunch yesterday, but I just brushed it off. He doesn’t need to concern himself with my problems. He’s got enough of his own and he’s already done so much for me.

I owe him my life. Literally.

That’s why I’m going back to the diner today and every day that I’m back since his asshole employees are all no-shows. Pieces of shit. He bends over backwards for all of them and they don’t even have the decency to treat him with respect.

So I will be spending all of my time working instead of relaxing. It’s better than looking at these four walls and thinking the worst, but I will need to figure out what happens after the tour is over. Idle minds and I do not mix. Other than writing more songs for our next album and doing a few music videos, my time will be my own. It’s all good, but I really do miss busking on the streets. Not something I can do much of anymore since everyone pretty much recognizes me. Last thing I want to do is create havoc in the streets of Manhattan.

All kinds of memories come rushing back to me as I use the adjacent alley to get to theHungry Dog Diner. I stop, take a breath, and rub the ache that suddenly settles in the center of my chest. I think this might be the first time I’ve come down here in, what, seven years? Maybe eight? Not much has changed as I see all the cardboard boxes lining the outer fence, while dirty faces peek out to see if I’m friend or foe. Some are too young and shouldn’t know what hunger feels like, and some are old enough to remember what it was like to go to bed with a full stomach.

Suddenly, the smell of trash that assaults my senses makes me want to retch when I think that not so long ago that was me. I’m going to be sick. I rush past like I’m watching a horrific scene play out in a movie or some horrible accident where you want to look away but you can’t. Peeking through your fingers to see if it’s over. Only in this scenario, it never will be. After all these years, it’s still not acceptable that there are so many homeless kids on the streets.

I’m panting by the time I slide in the back door and stumble through the kitchen. Mack takes one look at me, doesn’t say a word, and escorts me into the back room. I don’t know what’s worse, being out there or being in here.

“We can’t save the world, boy. But we can help wherever we can. For as long as I have breath in this old body, I’ll feed as many of them as I can.” I should take comfort in his words, but I don’t because I know for everyone he feeds there are thousands who go hungry.

I swear I try as hard as I can, but my body’s shaking so badly that I just lose my shit. Remembering what I did to survive makes me sick to my stomach, and knowing that some of those little faces might have done the same.

Destroys me!

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