Everything You Are (Jukebox Heroes 3) Read online

  “Yeah, I know he is. And I wish I could have been there. Sounds like it was pretty epic.”

  “It was. Sounds like you had a good time, too, though.”

  I agreed that I’d had fun hanging out with the boys and my new friends. I didn’t tell her that she’d been a buzz kill; some things you just keep to yourself.

  We talked a little bit about Brian and how well his recovery was progressing (very well) and about Seth and his new girlfriend (Dylan couldn’t stand her). We talked a little about how much I missed London, and we worried aloud about him burning his candle at both ends.

  Then Brian took the phone from Dylan and we chatted for a few minutes. He told me how great I looked in my costume, and I complimented him on his kilt. Unlike the last sexy costume I’d seen him in, this one had been his idea instead of Seth’s. I told him I was glad he was getting better quickly, and he told me he was sorry London was being and idiot. His word, not mine.

  “What he’s doing is important. We both know that,” I told him.

  “Adrian’s worried about him,” Brian confessed. “He’s really glad this tour’s almost done.”

  “So am I. He’s juggling too much right now. And I’m afraid it’s him that’s going to end up in pieces on the ground, you know?”

  Brian did know. It’s what all of London’s friends were starting to fear.

  “How are you doing?” Brian asked me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “With the London situation. With...everything, I guess.”

  I told him I was doing as well as could be expected and told him about making new friends, including Seth’s friend Chris. He told me he’d have to talk to Seth about Chris, check up on him a bit, and I laughed. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or teasing me. Probably a little of both.

  We said our goodbyes, and then he handed the phone back to Dylan. We said our goodbyes, too, and then I headed to the bedroom to grab an hour or so of sleep before getting ready for work.

  Work was the same old routine. After the initial rush of Sunday night business travelers checking in, it was pretty quiet. I didn’t have any major headaches or complaints to deal with, and I ended up spending more time talking to the other front desk clerk than I did working. The slow night combined with my lack of sleep made the time drag. By the time my ‘lunch’ break rolled around, I was ready to curl up in the break room and take a nap.

  Instead of trying to sleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair, I grabbed a soda from the machine and sat down to fiddle with my phone while my frozen dinner warmed in the microwave. To my surprise, I found a missed call from London.

  My heart hammering in my chest, I dialed London’s number, telling myself not to get my hopes up. I swear my heart stopped beating for a second or two when I heard his voice.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  I swallowed hard and whispered, “Hey, yourself.”

  “I got your pictures. You looked hot. Wish I could have been there.”

  The tension inside me loosened, and I smiled a little. “Me, too. How did it go?”

  London sighed. “We didn’t find her, but we have some leads. It’s gonna take some time to run them down, though.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Then I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to ask what had been on my mind for days now. Finally, I settled for, “You hired an investigator, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then why are you running down leads? Isn’t the PI supposed to do the leg work?”

  London was quiet for a long moment. “Quinn’s not up to doing all the running yet.”

  “Quinn?” I felt a chill rush through my blood as I tried not to picture Quinn lying on the floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound that I was trying my damnedest to hold pressure on. “Since when is he a PI? And why didn’t I know you were working with him?”

  “He’s been a PI since he retired from the Agency. And I didn’t say anything about him because you freak out when anyone mentions his name.”

  “I don’t freak out,” I said.

  “You’re freaking out now. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I’m not freaking out,” I lied, my voice hardly more than a whisper. I grabbed my soda and took a drink, then sat tracing patterns on the can.

  “Are you still seeing that therapist?”

  “Dr. Hopper? Yeah, I still see her sometimes.” Ashe had referred us both to therapists who dealt exclusively with those privy to the world of magic. “What about you? Do you keep in touch with Dr. What’s-His-Name?”

  “Falk. And not really. It’s not like I can get back to LA for office visits, and it’s hard to get in touch with him by phone. Scheduling conflicts.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” I said.

  I glanced at the clock on the wall and winced. My lunch hour was ticking away too fast to suit me. I knew I should hang up and eat while I still had time, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity to talk to my boyfriend. London solved my internal debate for me; he said he had to go so he and Quinn could grab dinner.

  “I love you,” London told me.

  “I love you, too. Try to take care of yourself, okay?”

  “You, too. Good night.”

  I told him good night and punched the ‘end call’ button. I felt better after talking to him, but I had to wonder how long that would last.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Two days later I was back at Haven for open mic night. It was becoming a regular thing for me. Amy had the night off, and the guy from Saturday night – Adam – was working the door. He spoke as little as possible and didn’t even make a show of carding me. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, though; everyone has an off night now and again.

  Once inside, I made a beeline for the main bar. For the first time, Joseph wasn’t there. Deprived of his company – and my new favorite drink – I just stood there for a moment, lost. I was still trying to figure out what would work as an alternative to one of Joseph’s amazing fruit cocktails when I felt something brush against my hair just before someone murmured ‘boo’ in my ear.

  I turned to grin at Chris. “Good thing I don’t startle easily.”

  He grinned back and told me to come join him once I had my drink. I told him I would, and he headed to his customary table near the stage. Michael was already there, and I joined them as soon as I decided on and paid for a drink.

  Open Mic night was the usual blend of humor and poignancy, talent and the lack thereof. And for once, I didn’t have a meltdown, though I did check my phone far more often than I should have. I couldn’t stay until closing, since I had to work early the next day, and I said my goodbyes to Mike and Chris during one of the brief breaks between acts.

  When I got off work the next day, I found a missed call from London and a voicemail asking me to call him when I got the chance. He sounded tired and down, and I had to force myself to wait until I got home to call him back. My heart raced while I dialed his number; I was certain I’d missed him yet again. When he answered on the second ring, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.

  We exchanged ‘heys,’ and then he said, “I never know when to call you. I’m always afraid I’ll catch you on the way to work or something.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m always worried I’ll call and you’ll have forgotten to turn the ringer off, and your phone’ll start blasting some loud, obnoxious ringtone right in the middle of an acoustic power ballad, and Adrian will kill us both.”

  London laughed. “It would be worth it just to see his head explode.” We both chuckled a little, imagining Adrian’s reaction to such a scenario, and then London asked what my schedule was for the rest of the week.

  “I want to know when I can call you,” he said.

  I told him I’d be off the next day and that I had early shifts –seven in the morning to three in the afternoon – all weekend.

  “Does that mean we can actually talk for a while? Or do you have plans tonight?
”

  I assured him I didn’t have plans, but to be honest, I’d have changed plans if it meant getting to have an actual conversation with London.

  “Good,” he said. “I mean, not good that you don’t have plans, but good that we can talk. I miss you. And I just need to know you’re there sometimes, you know?”

  I did know.

  He went on to tell me about the latest news – or lack thereof – regarding his and Quinn’s investigation. Their leads weren’t leading anywhere, and it was getting to him. I understood that, too. I did my best to distract him with stories from work and Haven and with questions about the band and the tour. We talked for more than an hour – the longest conversation we’d had since Nashville – and it seemed to cheer him a little. We said our ‘good nights’ and ‘I love yous,’ and then he headed out to play rock star and I curled up with Benny and a good book.

  I spent my day off running errands and doing laundry. And waiting for my cell to ring. It finally did around eight that night – and I knew it couldn’t be London because he was on a stage somewhere. The caller ID said ‘Alex,’ and I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice as I answered his call. Somehow the call went from Alex checking up on me to planning to come spend the weekend with me. Guess I didn’t manage to keep my emotions masked, after all.

  I always loved having Alex and Blas around. Sometimes I wanted to bash my brother in the head with an iron skillet, but that’s a sibling thing. I’d be far more worried if I didn’t feel that way now and again. For the most part, though, he and Blas were good company. Their impending visit gave me something to look forward to as I trudged through the workday on Friday – something I could actually count on, unlike the calls that London often promised and seldom followed through on these days.

  Friday night with the boys consisted of dinner at a local burger and wings place, a movie rental, and margaritas. It was kind of perfect. Saturday was good, too, even though it was similarly low-key. And then Sunday came around.

  The boys dragged me out to a late lunch/early dinner as soon as I got home from work, barely giving me time to change out of my fussy work clothes and into jeans and one of my many, many t-shirts. They said we were meeting friends for dinner, and I envisioned hanging out with their geeky sci-fi convention friends, which was just fine with me. Those guys reminded me a lot of my geeky roleplaying game friends back in Houston.

  We got to the restaurant – my favorite sushi place – and grabbed a table in the corner. A few minutes later, the aforementioned friends showed up. I bounced up to hug Joseph and Chris, trying to hide my surprise. I wasn’t sure what exactly was going on in my brother’s brain – if he was trying to hook up with Joseph or hook me up with Chris – but I wasn’t going to let his hidden agenda bother me.

  I assumed that Joseph and Chris would both have to head to the club after dinner, but Chris had taken the night off. Joseph wouldn’t be going in until later in the evening to take over for Phil, a staff member I hadn’t met. Sunday nights were slow nights, so Chris felt confident leaving the bar in the hands of the less experienced part-time manager, especially with Joseph going in to close up shop. That left Chris and Joseph both free to hang out with us for a couple of hours after dinner.

  After some discussion, we ended up going to my favorite local coffee shop. Their coffee drinks were good, but it was their scones that kept me coming back. Unfortunately, I’d just stuffed myself with maki rolls and had no room for a scone. Fortunately, I could always take one home with me for tomorrow’s breakfast, which would make Monday morning a little easier to bear.

  We sat and talked – and in some cases, flirted – for another hour or so before Joseph announced that he had to leave. He and Chris had driven up together, so they left together as well. I was sadder to see Chris go than I wanted to admit. Soon afterward, Alex and Blas had to go, too, leaving me alone again, staring at my phone and willing it to ring.

  After an evening spent in the company of some of my favorite people, the silence of my apartment was oppressive. I turned on some music to fill the void, but it only seemed to heighten the sense of isolation. It was going to be a long night. What a shitty end to a great weekend.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By the time that Tuesday rolled around, I’d had all of my own company that I could stand. I still hadn’t heard from London, except for one text telling me that he missed me, and the silence in my apartment was killing me. Even though I didn’t get off work until eleven, I decided to make the half-hour drive to Haven for open mic night. With a little luck, I’d get to see the last ninety minutes of the show, at least.

  Adam was working the door at Haven, and he hadn’t gotten any more personable since the last time our paths had crossed. I resisted the urge to try to slap some personality into him and wandered inside, hoping that a dose of Haven would help me shake off my foul mood.

  Joseph wasn’t working the bar, which only made my mood that much worse. I turned around, intending to head right back out the door, but I saw something out of the corner of my eye that made me stop and look around. Up near the stage, Michael was trying to catch my attention. Once he had it, he made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand, and I picked my way through the crowd toward the table he shared with Chris. There wasn’t an empty chair in the place.

  No, that wasn’t true. There was one empty chair – a chair at Chris’s crowded table. He hopped up when he saw me and gave me a brief hug before wrestling the chair out from between his and Mike’s seats.

  “I’m glad you made it,” he said, his warm breath against my ear sending shivers racing over my skin.

  “Me, too,” I told him.

  I took the offered seat and settled in to watch the show. It wasn’t until a little later, once I’d relaxed some and the edges of my bad mood had melted away, that I realized he’d saved the seat especially for me, not knowing if I’d show but hoping I would. It felt good to know that someone looked forward to seeing me, to spending time with me.

  After the club closed for the night, Chris and Mike invited me to join them for a late night dinner. I turned them down, though, since I had some things I needed to get done before work the next day. Michael extended another invitation – to come see his band on Friday night – and I accepted. I needed to get out more, I liked his band, and I liked that he wanted me to be there. That coupled with a pair of goodnight hugs helped to chase away a little more of my depression and anger.

  Somehow I made it through the next two days at work, despite feeling damned near homicidal. I still hadn’t heard from London, even though I’d tried to call him a couple of times. On top of that, there was a group staying at the hotel whose members seemed to be vying for the title of ‘biggest asshole of all time’. Add in some unstable hormones, and it was little wonder I felt the need to break something.

  When London finally called the next day, after I’d just gotten done with another day of dealing with the conventioneers from hell, I almost didn’t answer my cell. I wanted to give him a dose of what I’d been feeling, catty though that might be. I couldn’t follow though, though; my desire to hear his voice won out over my need for payback.

  As soon as London spoke, I was glad I’d answered. He sounded miserable – lost and hurt and tired and a little angry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” he said. “I miss you, and I miss Brian. I’m scared and worried and so fucking tired, Em. Quinn and I flew out to Chicago Monday, trying to run down some leads. We hit a wall. He’s backtracking to see if we missed anything, but....” He trailed off with a tired sigh.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmured. “I wish I could help.”

  “I wish someone could,” London said. “We’re getting nowhere. And every day that goes by...I just feel like we’re wasting so much time.”

  “I get that.”

  London was quiet for a moment before he said, “Thank you for understanding. For having my back.”

  “I want to find her, too,” I
reminded him.

  “That means a lot to me. The guys...they don’t get it. They’ve been giving me shit about missing promo spots. And get this – Adrian actually told me my music is suffering because I’m ‘stretching myself too thin’. I thought Adrian, at least, would understand. And my playing is not fucking suffering.”

  “It’s just an excuse,” I guessed. “Adrian’s worried about you, and he’s grasping at straws to try to get you to take better care of yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he snapped.

  “I can tell,” I said.

  We were both quiet for a long moment. I took a deep breath or two and forced myself to say something I knew he wouldn’t want to hear.

  “London, honey...have you thought that maybe the guys have a point?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Maybe you are pushing yourself a little too hard. Between the band and the investigation and Ashe...it’s a lot to deal with. You don’t have a lot of downtime, and that’s not good for you.”

  “I thought you understood.” His tone was cold enough to make me shiver. I didn’t like being the focus of his anger.

  “I do understand. I’m just saying that maybe you should take a step back.”

  “And when my ‘taking a step back’ gets that little girl killed? How am I supposed to live with that?”

  “London....”

  “I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve gotta go. You take care of yourself.”

  I said his name again, ready to tell him whatever he needed to hear just to clear the air between us, but he’d already hung up. I sat there staring at the phone for a long time before tossing it onto the sofa and going to curl up with Benny and cry myself to sleep. I tossed and turned for most of the night, instead.

  I had to be at work at seven the next morning, and I headed off for a less-than-promising Friday after only a couple of hours of sleep. The asshole convention hadn’t left yet, and I had to deal with their bullshit off and on throughout my shift. I’m not sure I’d ever wanted so badly to punch people in the throat.