Rock & Release Read online

  Surely she'll come back and tell me what in the world set her off like that. Because it can't just be that I'll be busy with an internship this summer. And even if it is, she doesn't get to jump down my throat like that. She's so easy to set off these days. Well, these years, really. But whenever I try to talk to her about it, she shrugs me off—or sparks even hotter in anger. And then suddenly she'll be back, the Teagan I grew up with, the fun, thoughtful friend who might bully the world when her back's to the wall, but never me. I just never know who I'm going to get. Guess I was wrong to assume the fun of a concert—the fun of a VIP experience—would keep her happy.

  Surely she'll come back and apologize for what she said to me.

  "Because I wasn't being a smug bitch." It feels better to mutter the words out loud. Especially since they're the truth. Whatever else I might have done wrong, I wasn't being that.

  People are still staring at me, I can tell by the extra pressure in the air against my skin. Keeping my eyes on the exit, willing Teagan to hurry up and return, I tilt my beer to my mouth to down the rest of it, but it's already gone. "Great."

  I look up to find our waitress—a different girl than the one who dropped the food earlier—and she's already heading toward me, a pink drink in a martini glass extended in my direction.

  "Oh—I was about to order another beer," I say, not sure whether or not to take the drink from her. "I, uh, didn't order that."

  "My boss thought you looked like you could use this?" She lets her hair—short, black and silky—fall across her face. Humiliation creeps up the back of my neck. She's embarrassed for me.

  "Oh God. Because we caused a scene? I'm so sorry." I glance toward the bar, my cheeks hot, but don't see anyone who might be her boss looking back. A few of the other customers are watching me still, though. I wonder if I should apologize to them, too.

  The waitress waits until my attention's back on her, then hands me the drink and pushes back her hair, her deep brown eyes showing a hint of compassion. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." I wave my free hand through the air, trying to brush away some of the leftover tension. I lift the martini glass in my other. "What is this?"

  "It's a watermelon-tini," she answers. "Our special tonight. Well, every night," she adds, conspiratorially.

  "That sounds sweet." Which makes it sound way more up Teagan's alley than mine. I wonder how rude it'd be to trade it in for a whiskey.

  "It is sweet. It's also really strong," she says.

  I take it back. Something really strong sounds exactly like what I want. "Thanks."

  "I'm Vera. Let me know if I can get you anything else."

  I raise the martini. "Hey—Vera—tell your boss thanks for this."

  "Yep." She nods, compassion disappearing from her expression as she turns from me and heads over to replenish the now empty beer by the singer's feet. He winks at her without missing a beat. And a moment later when his song is done, when he takes a swig from that bottle of beer, I watch his Adam's apple slide up and down his throat, and I want to trace its trail with my mouth.

  Even my irritation with Teagan isn't enough to quell the heat in my imagination tonight.

  I'm able to thank Vera's boss on my own a few minutes later when he arrives to introduce himself, all hulkingly muscled, overly tan, spiky-blond haired. Sleazy in a nutshell. Not that I'd usually judge on appearance alone, but sometimes you just know. Plus, he's practically swimming in cologne. A tell's a tell.

  "I guess I sent the right thing over," he says, gesturing to the glass, now half empty.

  "You must be Vera's boss?" I smile, though it feels plastic across my mouth. Or maybe that's because my lips are stiffening in an effort not to pucker from the cloying sweetness of the drink. It's worth it though because Vera was right about it being strong. Halfway through and I'm halfway to the point of not caring about Teagan's tantrum anymore.

  "Jared." He holds his hand out to me, so I shake it.

  "Cassidy. Thanks for the drink—it was exactly the right thing." The alcohol content was, anyway. I'd rather have it in the form of a Manhattan, but whatever.

  "A sweet drink for a sweet-looking girl," he says, holding onto my hand though the shake is over. "I had you pegged the second you stepped through the gate."

  Gross. But I keep my smile plastered in place because what else am I going to do right now? Leave? I take another sip and slide my other hand from his, resisting the urge to wipe my palm across my lap. Instead, I point toward the guy on stage. "He's good."

  "Gage? He's a great warm-up act. Not quite talented enough to make it on his own, but our regulars love him."

  I bet the singer—Gage—has more than enough talent to make it on his own. Shit, he could probably make it even if he couldn't sing, he's so freaking hot. His head turns in my direction and I drop my eyes to the martini in front of me, but a second later I can't keep my gaze from sliding back to him. He's that perfect, careless sort of gorgeous—like he might not even realize the kind of effect he has on people. The kind of effect he has on me. I have to swallow a few times before I can respond to Jared. "His Franklin Charles cover was amazing."

  "You know Franklin Charles?" There's a ring of surprise in Jared's question.

  "You look confused?" There's a ring of rudeness in mine. This guy just rubs me the wrong way.

  "You're here for a Demi Jade concert. Pop star fans don't always bleed into the realm of Franklin Charles."

  He has a point. I nod, conceding. "I like her, too. But I love his music. He was my brother's fav… He's a family favorite. Does he ever play here?"

  "Nah. I'm sure our booking manager, Zach, would love to get him, but he doesn't draw a big enough crowd anymore." He gestures out toward the amphitheater and scoots his chair around the table, a few inches closer to me. "There are twenty-five thousand seats to fill out there—and that doesn't even include the space on the lawn."

  "That's too bad." I shrug and slide my own chair away from his, caring more about distance between us than the screech of its legs dragging across the patio. "He used to be huge. My parents saw him a bunch of times back in the day."

  He seems to get the point and doesn't come any closer. We shoot the breeze about music for a few, and I relax a little—this I can chat comfortably about with anyone. It's in my blood. If nothing else, and of course there is much else, my parents brought me up listening to great music. And…it turns out Jared and I have a few other overlapping tastes—especially with some of the lesser-known bands. I find myself warming up to him, the teensiest bit.

  Until he says, "Zach would probably love you. Good thing I saw you first."

  I roll my eyes, but he's not looking at me. "Listen, that's not—"

  "Vera, doll," he interrupts me as the waitress passes our table. "Grab another watermelon-tini for Cassidy."

  "I'm good, thanks." I shake my head, but he's still not paying attention, his eyes are all for the pretty waitress now. Poor thing. She smiles, though, so either she's unfazed by him or she's a good enough actress to act like it.

  "One more martini's not going to hurt anything." He shrugs, like the matter is settled, and lifts his shades to rest them on the top of his head, pushing them into his stiff, gelled hair. I'm surprised pieces don't snap in two, but it just springs out in tiny spikes from underneath.

  I glance up at the sky and realize I can remove my shades, too. The sun's ability to blind is weakening as it falls through the sky, dipping lower toward the silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance, shimmering into a golden pink on the first little edges of sunset.

  Vera waits for my response, one hand on her hip, and I'm about to refuse again, because… just…no to everything about Jared, but suddenly Gage is thanking the audience for listening and announcing that the concert's about to start and stupid Teagan isn't back yet. So instead I sigh. "Thanks, Vera, more alcohol sounds perfect."

  I send a quick text to Teagan, asking as politely as I can where the fuck she is.

  "Where
's your friend?" Jared asks like he's read the text over my shoulder. When I glance up though, he's watching the stage, where Gage is making his way over to a table of girls who are waving at him. Lucky girls.

  "No clue." I sigh again when she doesn't text me back right away.

  "Maybe she's already at your seats?"

  "Doesn't matter if she is. She has both tickets."

  "Oh." A slow smile creeps across his mouth. "I guess you'll be hanging out here a while longer then."

  "Guess so." Great. I down the rest of my drink and watch as the tables around us begin to clear out. Anxiety pricks my stomach. Not because I'm alone with Jared now—he's slimy, but it's of the handleable variety—but because I have nowhere else to go. There's a car scheduled to pick us up after the show, which is hours away. I could call my mom, I guess, but, really, who wants to be the girl who still has to call Mommy to come get her?

  Surely Teagan will be back before the concert actually starts.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Teagan is not back by the time the opening performer, Kylie VanHaven, starts her set. I tell myself it doesn't matter because, based on what I can hear of her first song blaring out from the amphitheater, she's not very good live anyway. I finish my second watermelon-tini, deciding I actually do enjoy how sweet it is and order a third, which Vera brings and then joins us at the table, pulling up a chair next to Jared. "Shift's over."

  "Thank God for another girl." I slide a halfway cold basket of nachos—one she brought to us a little while ago—toward her. "Help yourself."

  "Thanks. Starving." She digs in, grabbing a chip and scraping cheese off before eating it. I'm about to ask why she'd skip the best part, but Jared interrupts my train of thought.

  "What do you mean, another girl?" He scowls at me, clearly offended.

  Good. "You're a bit much to handle on my own."

  "Too hot to handle, you mean?"

  "Not even a little bit." The watermelon-tinis have made me bold. And maybe a little mean.

  He slides his hand away from mine, where it'd been resting just a little too close. Finally, he's getting it.

  Vera looks back and forth between us, trying harder not to laugh with each exchange. "Jared," she says, biting her lip for a moment to keep from cracking up, "She's got you all figured out."

  "I should get back to working if I'm not wanted here."

  I say, "Oh, relax," at the same time as Vera says, "Oh, like you ever really work," so that our "Ohs" come out in sync and we both start to giggle.

  "It's cool," I say a second later, when Jared's still wearing the most wounded of expressions—even though he hasn't moved from his seat. "You have good taste in music. I respect that. Just lay off the sleaze. And keep these coming." I lift my glass toward him and then take a long drink.

  "Stop calling me sleazy unless you're trying to get kicked out of here."

  Whoops. Guess I pushed him too far. But I don't feel bad about it, and find myself quoting my mother, though my words come out a little more slurred than hers ever would. "Sometimes we need people to hold up mirrors to the things we can't see on our own."

  "Honey, you're not sleazy." Vera lays a hand on his arm and shoots me a look I don't know her well enough to read. "You're just…maybe a bit too aggressively into pretty girls."

  Jared looks down at her hand, where she's rubbing her thumb along his skin, maybe to calm him down. Oh. She has feelings for him. I instantly feel bad for her. And irritated with him. Even more so with Teagan, though, because I'm still stuck here. I stare down the exit, willing her to return. But of course she doesn't, and the three of us fall into an awkward pause with Kylie's amped music beating through the air.

  No one speaks.

  Vera's still holding Jared's arm.

  Jared's still tense.

  I keep sipping my martini.

  Nobody's looking at each other.

  I grab one of the neglected nachos, and it crunches loudly in my mouth. Now they're both looking at me.

  "So…" I fail to come up with anything to say. I should leave. This is so uncomfortable.

  But then Gage walks over to our table, and there's not a chance in hell I'm going anywhere.

  He greets Vera and Jared and nods his head to acknowledge me, his eyes—up close, they're such a light brown they're almost golden—lingering on my face (oh, hello there, tingles sparking at the center of my stomach). The corner of his mouth quirks, like he knows exactly what I'm thinking. "Hey."

  I start to respond before I remember the mouthful of martini I've just sucked down, and all that comes out is a sputtering choke.

  I turn my head and cough into my hand for what feels like hours, my cheeks in flames—and definitely bright red.

  Awesome.

  "Nice set today." Jared slides his arm from Vera's grasp and reaches out to shake Gage's hand. Gage hesitates a moment before taking it. Maybe he's not a huge Jared fan. Maybe that makes him even more attractive.

  "I'm heading out," he says. "See you tomorrow." His gaze drops back to me, though, and he doesn't turn to leave. This time when I have trouble breathing for a second, it has nothing to do with choking.

  "You should stay and have a drink." The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them, tripping over my tongue and cartwheeling past my lips and if I could grab them and swallow them back down I would.

  Or… Maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I like this bold version me who says what she wants to.

  He meets my gaze, half of an amused smile across his lips, revealing white teeth, with one slightly crooked cuspid, and, no, I actually don't regret my words at all. His mouth. Those lips. That perfectly imperfect smile… If what I said convinces him to stick around, I'd be nuts to be sorry for what I said.

  "As long as I don't have to drink anything quite this pink." He taps the rim of my glass with a long, slender finger.

  "I'm Cassidy." I stick my hand out to him—because if I'm going all confident and carefree Cassidy here, I'm not holding back.

  "Gage." He doesn't hesitate to reach out this time around, which makes me a little giddy though I hide it by swallowing the rest of my drink, which thankfully goes down smoothly this time. When he holds my fingers a second longer than necessary, I don't mind at all. And when he keeps his gaze on mine as he slides into the seat next to me, his expression friendly—and a little suggestive—my lips curve up in response.

  Vera winks at me and cocks an eyebrow, all knowingly. "Where's Zoey?" she asks Gage.

  He shrugs. "We broke up a month ago—thought you knew."

  "Ooooh yeah. Sorry, I'd forgotten." But she slips a second wink in my direction when he's not paying attention, and I know she's pretended to forget so I'll understand he's single.

  I tip my chin toward her in silent thanks. I like this girl more and more, regardless of her apparent soft spot for Jared, who's wearing a smug little smile when he says, "Zoey left a little while ago for a trip with her parents. But I'm sure she'll be back around here before you know it."

  Gage shrugs a second time, his face carefully bland. There are words going unspoken between him and Jared here, but I can't quite catch the gist. Why does Jared know this much about Gage's ex in the first place? But maybe they're friends. I bet Jared and Vera doubled with them sometimes.

  Jared hails down another waitress. The blonde from the epic make-out session earlier.

  "Hey, I saw you!" The effects of my most recent martini start to kick in, and I can pretty much feel the whoosh of all my inhibitions flying out the door. "You were behind that corner—"

  "I was just about to take your drink order," she cuts me off, eyes flashing a warning to shut the hell up. Guess she recognizes me, too.

  The alcohol in my veins wants to tell her how hot the kiss was, how sexy the guy she'd been with was, but I bite my tongue and hold up my empty glass. "I'll have another one of these."

  Gage orders a beer, Vera and Jared rum and cokes. While we wait, I ask Gage how long he's been performing.

  "Feels lik
e forever." He steeples his fingers and stretches his arms out in front of him. He has long forearms. Muscled but not overly bulky, like Jared's. They look smooth, and my palm heats with the sudden need to lay it on top of his skin. I wrap it around my empty glass instead.

  "Your talent's been the topic of many of my conversations today." More words I don't think about before speaking.

  "She liked your Franklin Charles cover," Jared adds, though his attention's on Vera. Guess I'm forgiven. Maybe it's because Vera's hand is under the table, and her arm is angled toward where it might just connect above his knee.

  "A Franklin Charles fan. Nice." This time Gage throws me a full smile. It's a bit like a jolt of adrenaline, and it sends yummy little trills up the sides of my neck.

  I don't know what's gotten into me today, but I'm kind of digging it.

  "Who?" Vera asks.

  Jared laughs. "Maybe I should hire Cassidy since she knows more about music than most of my staff."

  "If I didn't have something amazing lined up for the summer, I might even accept," I say. I can't help imagining what it'd be like: Summer in the sun, full of music. No cubicled office and uncomfortable suits. No CEO ass-kissing…

  But it'd also mean no proud and happy parents.

  The waitress—Nicole is her name, according to Vera—brings our drinks, along with a round of shots, including one for me, which she says is, "Tequila. Patrón. Just because I like you so much."

  She doesn't like me. She doesn't know me from any other customer here. Well, most of the other VIPers are in the concert already, but still. The shot is a bribe to keep my mouth shut.

  "Thanks." I nod—message received—and throw back the shot with everyone else. Ah, tequila, my old friend. No sticky watermelon sweetness, just tangy heat straight down my throat and into my belly. I shake my head when she offers me a lime.

  "Good girl." Jared's impressed. "Sweet like a watermelon and badass with tequila."

  Vera, sucking on a lime, rolls her eyes.

  "Thanks, Nicole." Gage wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing the tiniest splash of tequila from his mouth. His sexy, sexy, kissable mouth. I should stop staring at it.