Olivia Cunning - Hot Ticket

Now that she could see Jace, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His concentration was absolute, every note given equal care and precision. He was caught up in his music, as if nothing else in the world mattered. He played his instrument with the same care and attention he showed her when they made love. Her heart gave a painful lurch when she realized that music was his entire existence. His purpose in life. His reason for being. She would never matter to him as much as his band—these songs, this stage, any crowd. She tore her eyes from Jace and forced herself to watch the rest of the band, terrified by the direction of her thoughts. Why was she so hung up on this guy? Why did she care that she’d never be the most important thing in his life? It wasn’t as if she was contemplating a future with him. She didn’t contemplate her future at all. There was no point. If fate wanted to take her for a ride, it was beyond her control. Why even worry about it?

When her eyes drifted back to Jace, she found he was watching her. He offered his sexiest, gentlest smile, and she had the inexplicable urge to flee. She forced herself to stay put—to face these alien feelings swirling through her heart. To come to terms with the idea that he was important to her. It didn’t matter if he reciprocated her feelings. She wanted him to be happy, to be with him in any capacity he allowed—devoted and dedicated so he could pursue his first love. Music.

Oh God, I’m a groupie. Pathetic and needy. Over a guy.

What in the world was wrong with her? The foreign idea of putting someone’s needs before her own, especially a man’s, had her head spinning. So much so that she didn’t recognize the band had left the stage until an arm slid around her back and a firm pair of lips brushed her neck beneath her ear.

She shuddered and clung to Jace’s T-shirt with one hand.

“Enjoying the concert?” he murmured.

“Is it over?” she asked, astonished.

He chuckled. “Are you distracted?”

That was an understatement.

“We’re taking a short break, but Sed has a surprise for Jessica that we’re all involved in, so I can’t stay long.” Jace had left her alone in the hotel for a couple hours to practice for this surprise, but he hadn’t shared what it was. Not even when she’d taken her flail to him until he came.

The side of the stage where they stood was bathed in shadows. Aggie was certain that privacy was the only reason Jace claimed her mouth in a toe-curling kiss.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered against her lips. “That I can share this part of me with you.” He kissed her again, sucking at her lips gently. “Like you shared your passion for the dungeon with me.”

Well, that had been sort of different. He’d watched her make grown men cry, and strangely, had been okay with her twisted nature. His passion, his music, was so much more than either of them. It touched millions of people around the world. She cupped his face, his beard stubble rough against her fingertips.

“I’m glad I’m here too.” Even though it meant she had some troubling feelings to sort through.

He smiled, his even features just visible in the dim light. Jace touched his fingertips to Aggie’s cheek and then returned to the stage.

Sed took Jessica by the hand and led her toward center stage.

“What are you doing?” Aggie heard Jessica’s tremulous voice through Sed’s microphone.

“What I planned to do before you one-upped me and proposed before I had the chance.”

The band played a sweeping intro to a ballad. All three guitarists used bows on their instruments, so the music sounded more orchestral than metal. It was hauntingly romantic. When Sed started singing the tender words of a love song to Jessica, Aggie’s breath caught in her throat. The pair was so lost in each other that the twelve thousand other people in the arena were forgotten. Watching them gaze at each other brought tears to Aggie’s eyes. She’d never witnessed anything like it—unmistakable, unconditional love flowing between them—and she’d never thought she might have something like that. Never even wanted it—until now. She tore her eyes away from the couple at center stage and watched Jace, again caught up in his first love, his music. As scary as the idea was, she couldn’t deny it. She wanted that—what Sed and Jessica had. And she wanted it with Jace.

Aggie tossed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her mother, who was sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. “So when are you leaving?”

“When it’s safe,” Mom said, sprinkling Tabasco sauce on her eggs and then digging in.

Standing, as it would take actual effort to climb onto a stool, Aggie yawned and picked at her own eggs. She’d had a rough night at the club. Some drunk dickhead had climbed on her stage and gotten fresh. Well, fresh was putting it lightly. The bouncers had to mace him to get him off her. She hated men. Well, most of them. At the moment, Jace was the only exception, and as he was touring the Northeast, she hadn’t seen him for several weeks. He was always gone. They kept in contact via text message. He didn’t like to talk on the phone. She missed him and worked hard not to feel bitter about his touring. Or that he was never out of her thoughts for a moment, while he was undoubtedly having the time of his life. Sinners were on their way home to LA today. Maybe she could see Jace sometime this week. She didn’t handle these long stretches away from him well. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Most people sleep at night, you know.” Mom waved a hand at the early morning sunshine streaming through the kitchen window.

“Most mothers don’t visit their daughters for three fuckin’ months, you know.”

Mom pointed at her with her fork. “Watch your mouth, Agatha Christine. I’m leaving soon.”

“You’ve been saying that every day since you moved in. The least you could do is admit that you’re here to stay.”

Mom shook her head. “I’m waiting for the all clear.” She reached into the neckline of her baggy sweatshirt and pulled a necklace free. “Here, I want you to have this.” She lifted the long chain over her head and handed a hideous, heart-shaped locket to Aggie. It attempted to be gold, but the paint was flaking off to reveal the white plastic beneath. Aggie had never seen it before.

“Gee thanks, Mom. Did you pick this up from Goodwill or the dumpster behind Dollar General?”

“I found it in an old shoe box the other day. Your father gave that to me.”

Aggie rolled her eyes. “The deadbeat Elvis impersonator?”

“Don’t disrespect your father.”

“I don’t think I can call a man I never met my father. He doesn’t know I exist.”

“Oh, he knows. I told him I was pregnant. That’s why he split.” Mom smiled nostalgically. “He was really handsome, doll. You look a lot like him.”

“Yes, my legacy is to be the greatest female Elvis impersonator to ever live. Too bad I sound like a strangled ostrich when I sing.” Aggie slipped the locket’s chain over her head. It wasn’t like her mother gave her things of importance on a regular basis. She did appreciate the gesture. She was just… tired. And really wanted her life back. And to be able to make love to Jace on the kitchen floor whenever the urge struck her. Not that he was around enough to appease those urges, but if he had been.

“Be proud of who you are, Agatha.”

Aggie nodded and squeezed the gaudy locket in her hand. “Thanks for the necklace, Mom. It’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, but I’ll treasure it.”

Mom smiled one of those rare smiles that touched her tired eyes. She’d had a hard life. It showed in every line of her face. Hard to believe the woman was only forty-seven.

Mom grabbed Aggie around the waist and pulled her next to her side. “Are you happy, baby?”

For some reason, her mother’s question made an image of Jace dominate her thoughts, like it did every twenty seconds or so. Aggie smiled, examining the locket more closely. “I’m working on it. Is there a picture inside?”

“It doesn’t open. Never did. It’s not really a locket.” Mom elbowed Aggie in the ribs affectionately. “We’re okay, right?”

Aggie nodded. “We’re okay.”

Mom kissed Aggie’s arm and patted her butt. “Go on to bed.”

“I have someone coming to pick up a corset this evening,” Aggie said. “I have to get it done before I even think about sleeping.”

“No, you don’t,” Mom said with an ear to ear grin. “I finished it for you.”

Aggie felt the blood drain from her face. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I did a bang-up job.”

Aggie dashed into her dining room and stopped dead in her tracks. Spread across the surface of the dining room table beside her sewing machine was the corset she’d been working on before she’d headed to the club the night before. Her mother had done a bang-up job all right. If bang-up was a synonym for fucked-up. The stitching was uneven. One cup of the garment was the premeasured D, the other a lopsided A. The Forget-Me-Not embroidery pattern didn’t match because Aggie’s practiced stitches decorated one side, and her mother’s kindergarten project disgraced the other. It wasn’t like Aggie could remove the misplaced stitches and fix it. Unlike cloth, if you poked a hole in leather, it stayed there. She’d have to completely start over.

“Mother!”

“Not bad for my first try. Maybe we could go into business together.”

Aggie picked up the corset and tugged at it to see if by some miracle it would straighten itself out. The ribbing was sewn in so that any woman unlucky enough to put it on would have her rib cage punctured and suffer a collapsed lung. “It’s ruined.”