Good Girl

Chapter 13: Haley

"Who're the passes for?" I ask Nina, glancing at the table backstage by security.

"Jax has visitors tonight."

"Annie and Grace are coming?" My heart lifts.

I wish he'd told me, but we haven't spoken since yesterday in the diner.

I should be pissed at him. He's being a baby.

But the piece of paper burns a hole in my pocket.

The words on it are evidence that he's trying. That even if he doesn't want anyone to know, he hasn't given up. He's still trying to create.

A cord wrapped around each arm, I start past the band's dressing room on my way to meet Jerry at the soundboard.

The silence is strange, and I stick my head in. Every face in the room looks at me.

Or rather they look at Nina, who passes me, her tablet in hand.

It's not unusual for Jax to be late. But someone else is missing.

"Where's Mace?" she asks.

A groan from the corner of the room answers her question. The bassist is curled up on a bean bag chair in the fetal position.

"That's what you get for ordering diner lobster every day for lunch," Kyle calls, not without sympathy.

"Let me guess. He can't go on tonight."

"The front row better have splash guards," Brick offers.

Nina holds up a hand and swivels to face the wall. I hear her counting backward from a hundred under her breath.

At ninety-six, she turns back with a sigh.

"Fuck it. We have a backup bassist. But we need another vocalist."

"What about Lita?"

The woman in question is watching me from where she's perched on the couch, a strange look on her face. "I don't know the arrangements," she says slowly.

"Then we'll have to make do without," Nina bites out.

"Haley does."

No one breathes after Lita says those words.

"Not happening."

I didn't hear Jax stalk into the room, but his response shuts me down. The finality of it is like a fist squeezing my heart.

"She's pretty good." Kyle shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing his head and making his hair fly. "I heard her in KC."

"No."

"Can I talk to you?" My gaze cuts from Jax to the bathroom.

"Talk." Jax ignores my silent request for privacy.

I focus on his stubborn gaze. "I sang four years of choir. I'm no Aretha, but I can do it. If you guys want." I acknowledge the fact that we're having this conversation in front of the entire band.

"You want fifteen minutes of fame? Is that what this is about?"

"Jesus, Jax," Lita murmurs to him.

The hand shoved through the front of his hair is impatient.

I'm hollowed out by the angst, not frustration, I recognize in his face.

My voice softens. "I don't care about being famous. I'm doing this for you. All of you," I amend, swallowing.

"Let's vote," Kyle chirps from the back of the room. "All in favor of Haley singing backup?" Kyle raises a hand.