Diving Into Him (South of Forever, Book 1)

Chapter 4

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Sweat beaded Jett's hairline as the phone rang. She clutched the phone tighter, walking faster with each ring. Stomach clenching, she took a deep breath in through her nose, then let it out slowly. She needed to get a grip. She was a professional, not a scared child in trouble with her parents.

Straightening her shoulders, she paused in front of a gas station. The phone rang again. She dipped her fingers into her pocket and retrieved her pack of cigarettes. She was almost out, and Koty was the one with the cash. She sighed. She had become the kind of woman she never wanted to be.

"Yeah," Griff said, cutting into her thoughts.

Jumping, Jett dropped the cigarette. She stooped to pick it up. Fumbling for words, she lit the cigarette. As soon as she inhaled, she felt better, more in control.

"Did you butt dial me?" Griff sighed.

"No, I'm here." She blew out a slow stream of smoke.

"What's up?" Unlike the last time she spoke with him, there were no sirens in the background. She wondered where he was.

She dropped onto a bench at the Ashmont T station. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Mind racing, she tried to think of something to say.

"Are you there?" An edge of aggravation crept into Griff's voice.

She didn't have much time to waste. "You said you were in LA." She took another drag. "What are you doing out there?"

"What does it matter to you?" His voice was light, teasing.

Relief swept through her. He sounded more like the old Griff, the way he had been before things started falling apart in Perpetual Smile. He was suddenly the same person who had held her while she cried on the floor of Phillip's hospital room after they lost him. It felt like ages ago, yet little more than a year had passed. Shaking the memories away, she took another drag off her cigarette. "We didn't get to chat much this morning." She kept her voice light, despite the ache in her chest.

He laughed. "Yeah, how did you make out with the band?"

"That depends on what you've been up to."

He paused. "Just dealing with some hockey stuff." She heard the flick of a lighter as Griff lit his own cigarette.

She missed sitting with him, smoking cigarettes and talking about the band. Her heart sank. "Hockey stuff," she repeated. "Are you training for this season?"

He cleared his throat. "What do you want, Jett?"

She sighed. It was time to kill the small talk. "We're going to play the show." She paused, waiting for his reaction. He said nothing. "I've got a bassist and a keyboardist. We're meeting tonight to rehearse."

"You're serious." Griff laughed, a short, incredulous bark that was more merry than condescending.

"Of course I'm serious." She tossed the rest of her cigarette into the street.

"So . . . what do you want from me?" he asked, his tone still light.

Her heart raced. Wiping damp palms on her thighs, she plunged forward. "I need a drummer." She let her words sink in. He was probably going to say no. When Perpetual Smile crumbled, he had left without a single word. He hadn't even called to see how rehab went.

"Why are you telling me this?" He exhaled a long breath. She couldn't tell if he was still smoking or sighing.

"You're the best drummer I know." She watched as the train rumbled to a stop in front of her. Watching as people boarded and stepped off, streaming past each other, she crossed her legs.