“Can’t this wait until later?” he calls.
“No! I need something from you.”
The door flies open and Jax stands in his boxers, tousled hair, and toned physique. This guy never looks like shit, even after what was probably a very late finish to his night. “What?”
I resist the urge to look around him to see who his latest conquest is. “I need some cash.”
His eyebrows tug together. “Why?”
“Dan took mine again,” I say in a low voice.
“Shit, Ruby. When are you going to end this?”
“Gonna get me some or not?” I demand.
“Key.” He holds out a hand, palm upward and I pull out my purse. Inside is the small silver key I keep hidden at home. I place it in his hand. “I don’t want her to see.” I indicate the girl behind.
“Oh, sure, so I kick her out of bed and say what? She’s gonna think I cheated on you.”
“Like you give a shit. C’mon, I’m at work in half an hour.”
Jax goes back into the room and I rest against the wood-chipped wall at the top of the stairs. There are raised voices and a few minutes later a blonde girl storms out in crumpled ‘last night’s clothes’ and holding her shoes. She tries a withering look on me but my own expression is enough to stop her saying anything.
“Well that saves an awkward goodbye,” Jax mutters, appearing in his jeans, holding a black tin.
I barge past him into the room. “Jax, please.”
“I’m not doing this much longer, babe.” He unlocks the black metal tin.
“Don’t call me babe.”
“Okay, honey.” Inside the tin rests a pile of banknotes and a piece of paper with a figure written on it. “You’ve almost saved enough now, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, apart from I keep taking from the stash when Dan takes my wages.”
“I don’t know why you don’t open a bank account.”
“You know why. Last time Dan found out and took the whole fucking lot.” I pull a few notes from the box. “Soon,” I promise him.
Jax catches my arm where my sleeve has ridden up as I stretched my arm out. He pushes up my jacket. Yellowing bruises mar the skin on my forearm and he inhales as he sees them. “Him?”
I snatch my arm away. “Stay out of this.”
“How the fuck can I? I’m storing money for your escape and I see you several times a week for rehearsals.”
I ignore him and shove the notes into the back pocket of my jeans.
“Have you told him Jem wants to book us some more gigs?” asks Jax.
Jem. My stomach spins at his name. I want to hate him, and for him to be the guy I’d formed in my head but he keeps looking at me as if he cares. There’s no getting away from who he is, the face of the man who wrote the music that got me through dark times. I’ve followed his life through the media’s eye, even went to Blue Phoenix gigs so, as with a lot of girls, I closed my eyes and imagined myself with one of the band. When I started playing guitar, Jem became halfway to a hero. Only halfway because as well as being talented, hot as hell, and at the forefront of the band, he’s an asshole.
Or I thought he was. I’m not sure anymore.
Obviously, he’s not an asshole to Ruby Riot but look at him with Sara a few days ago, picking her up like that. No, he might have kicked the drugs, but he’s still Jem Jones. And whatever the weird something that hovers unspoken between us, he’s bad news.
Dan is convinced Jem’s motives with the band include wanting to screw me. Maybe, maybe not. Not going to happen. Jem’s been to three of our gigs so far and when I see the enthusiasm on his face for our sound, I can’t help but surge with pride. Dan’s wrong; we are good. Jem’s approval almost makes me believe I’m worth this. That I can become something special.
Almost.
“No, I haven’t told Dan about the gig yet.”
Jax drags a hand through his thick hair. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to back out. Shit, Ruby.”
“No. No fucking way. He’d have to lock me in a room if he wanted to stop me going.”
What flickers across Jax’s blue eyes scares me. Jax believes that’s a possibility.