“Dhara,” I warn as she gets closer, but her eyes are set on the group at the bar.
Her hand reaches out and she taps one of the men on his shoulder. He’s definitely cute, seems a bit shy. He turns toward her. “Are you Quinn James?”
“I am,” he says.
“And you’re the members of Sinful Distraction, right?” She asks. “Dana, Hendrix and Keane.” Please say no. Please say no, although I shouldn’t care, right?
They all nod, and my heart hits the floor. He chose not to come here. He chose not to see me. Honestly, it’s for the best. I have things to say to him that his friends might not like to hear. I tune out of their conversation as my mind starts running a mile a minute. Too many thoughts are mixing with the pang my heart is feeling. The fact that he’s not here should be a blessing.
My eyes are steadily watching the door, and when it swings open, I hold my breath. This is the longest ten to fifteen seconds of my life, waiting to see who’s coming in. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, my palms are sweating, and my eyes are starting to water.
“Jamie,” Dhara says next to me. “I’m sorry.”
I shake away the cobwebs and look at my best friend. “Are you?” I ask. “Are you really?”
“You needed to know—”
“Know what? That he’s in town and wouldn’t come in?”
She takes a step back. I know my words sting, but so do her actions. “You could’ve waited until they were leaving to ask them who they were, instead, you just… you don’t get it, Dhara. I didn’t need to know.”
I leave her standing there and retreat to the back, and into the alley where I bend over and gasp for air. For years, I haven’t thought about the life I had before my daughter came. I haven’t thought about high school and everything that happened. I worked hard to erase the bad girl image I had to become a decent member of the community. And while I know it’s not Dhara’s fault, I’m blaming her. I didn’t need to know who those people were at the bar, and I don’t need to spend the rest of my day wondering why he didn’t come in with them.
Except, that’s exactly what I’m going to end up doing.
5
Ajay
Being in a band on tour means our sleep pattern is all messed up. It’s not odd for us to sit down at four or five in the morning to eat dinner or go to sleep around noon. Once we’re off tour, we crash hard for days at a time, hoping to ease back into the normality of everyday life. There was a time when I would stay awake for days, practicing on my kit, trying to hone my craft. However, those days went by the wayside when my big break came, and I started to value sleep. Say what you will but going to bed at nine or ten o’clock at night is good for you... trying to stay awake in a jail cell is not.
I’m exhausted, having been kept awake by the blaring television, the constant chatter of the guard talking on the phone, and the noise from the video game that he’s playing. And just when I’m about to doze off, Eddie starts talking to me. Talking about shit that is of no consequence to me, my life or this trumped charge that has me sitting in a cell. But he yammers on like he knows I’m trying to get some shut eye, going on and on about Bailey, how the town has changed since I left, how he’s married but doesn’t have any kids yet, and how the town historian is trying to pin an unsolved murder on some serial killer from the west coast. “Big happenings in Bailey since you left. You’re not the only famous one to come out of here ya know,” he says, as if the jab he’s taking is supposed to hurt. It doesn’t. I did what I did to survive… there isn’t a single doubt in my mind that if I’d stayed here, I’d be behind bars permanently. I was going nowhere fast. I am thankful, though, that he doesn’t bring up Whiskey. As far as I’m concerned, she’s off limits to everyone. I may give the Sheriff shit about his daughter, but that’s between the two of us and no one else.
“That pretty little thing that visited, she your wife?”
I say nothing.
“She sure seemed to fancy you. Maybe she’s a groupie you’re trying to con into paying your bail.”
“I can pay for my own bail,” I say quietly, hoping he can’t really hear me over his obnoxious game and the television.
“I bet you can,” he replies, making me wish I would’ve kept my mouth shut. “You and your big, fancy money. My wife follows your group. She doesn’t say much about you, though. Not too many people talk about you between Prineville and Bailey.”
Thank God.
“Although sometimes the boys like to get a bit rowdy when the wives go gaga over one of your music videos and we have to remind them that you’re a nobody, that you still piss standing up.”
Thankfully he stops talking, giving me a chance to close my eyes. I have no idea what time it is, except that it’s morning so the sun’s coming up, and I’ll finally see the judge today. My internal clock is all messed up. I know I arrived early Sunday morning and have been served three meals but haven’t had a guard change. Good old Eddie here has been on since he slid the door shut on me, which sucks for him.
“You still piss standing up, right pretty boy? Or are you all ‘sissified’ from living in California?”
Do I answer or ignore?
I ignore because nothing good comes from answering men who are determined to be pricks. He’s macho and thinks because he wears a uniform, he can act like this, and I’m going to let him. The sound of something hitting the bars of my cell causes me to lift my head. Eddie’s pacing back and forth in front, dragging his baton along the metal.
“It seems that you’ve lost your manners since you left Bailey.”
“Nope, just gained a bunch of sense.” I cross my arms and lay my head on them.