Page 114 of One Last Verse

“Bummer.”

“I know, but it is what it is, brother.” Jax fished out his business card from the front pocket of his jacket and handed it to the beard. “Hey, if you want to get some ink, come see me.”

“I’d love to, but we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Whenever you’re in town again.”

The wife finally made it to our table. More handshaking and fangirling took place. I watched them through a curtain of hazy blur. My head, my mouth, my limbs were like cotton.

“I’m so sorry again, but do you mind taking a photo with us?” The beard whipped out his cell phone. “Please.”

Jax stood. “Sure. Absolutely.”

A cell phone was thrust at me. I took it and scrambled to my feet.

The Minnesotans sandwiched my date and grimaced for the camera. People inside the restaurant stared at us as I clicked the button. Moments later the couple was gone. Their squeals still rang in my ears when we settled back down.

“I’m sorry about that,” Jax said with an apologetic smile on his lips.

“It’s okay. I…” I paused mid-sentence, unsure whether he needed to hear about my regular run-ins with the paparazzi and creepy fans of my ex.

The silence that swelled at the table felt heavy. Like my head.

Jax cleared his throat. “Just so you know, I’m not a stalker or anything, but I heard about you and Frankie Blade.”

My pulse jumped. “Oh.” I bit my bottom lip and continued to stare.

“It’s none of my business,” Jax said, then went on, “You don’t have to tell me anything or explain anything. I’m just really glad you texted.”

“It’s over,” I said quietly.

He tilted his head in question.

“Between me and him,” I explained. I had no idea why I was telling that to my tattoo artist. Except that I needed to vocalize it to someone other than my mirror reflection, to manifest my break-up as something real. Frank and I weren’t anything anymore. We parted ways over a month ago. Because I was suffocating him with my goodness, because he couldn’t keep his promises, because he was like everyone else—a rich ass who didn’t see how lucky he was, a selfish child who was wasting the second chance he’d been given.

“I like you, Cassy,” Jax said quietly. “I really do. You’re funny. You’re smart. You know what you want.”

“Except when I need a new tat.” I stifled a giggle.

“Well, for that, you have me.” He smirked.

“True. Sometimes I get tired of making all the major decisions.”

“I know you’re probably not in a good place right now, but I really want this to work.”

My throat was tight with sudden panic. I wanted it to work too. I’d never had a boyfriend before Frank. Men came and went. Kind of like tampons. Or seasons. Now that I’d gotten a taste of a real relationship, I wanted someone to cuddle with, someone as uncomplicated as Jax. Someone with a job, someone who liked rock music, and someone who wouldn’t scream, drunk-drool, and embarrass me in front of hundreds of people.

Was that too much to ask?

“Why don’t we pretend we just met,” I said, reaching for my glass to finish my drink.

“We can do that,” Jax agreed. “Whatever pace you want this to move at.”

“You’re very…” I stopped to look for the right word, but my brain was a spinning inferno. “…nice.”

His features remained calm, but his eyes changed. There was a shift in the air. I felt it with every numb cell in my body. I didn’t know what it was. Apprehension. Malevolence. My drunk mind couldn't process his signals correctly.

We talked some more and ordered dessert. Our conversation revolved around Jax’s work on the TV show and my larger than life documentary project that was failing miserably. We left late. I was inelegantly drunk and my mouth refused to stay shut. The streets were filled with people. Nightlife was at its peak. We drove along the busy stretch of Sunset Boulevard, top down and radio up.

---