But really… was there anything left on Earth that didn’t somehow remind me of her?
Amanda caught my hand and leaned in, resting her head on my shoulder. I could hardly blame her. It was the perfect setting for romance, never mind that it was a wedding. Katie and her girls had done well planning this thing, and if my goal was to get my date in the mood to spend the next couple of days screwing in front of a fire, mission accomplished.
Except that I was suddenly wondering why the fuck I’d brought Amanda to this thing at all.
Maybe because it would’ve seemed weird if I didn’t bring her? Maybe because, when she heard that Jesse Mayes—lead guitarist of Dirty, the band I’d managed since they and I were little more than kids, and one of my best friends—was getting married, she just assumed she’d be coming with me.
Or maybe because, when she’d assumed she was coming, I let her go ahead and assume, because deep down I’d wanted to send a big fat Fuck you to Jesse’s sister by showing up with the pretty blonde at my side.
Yeah, that sounded about right.
Not that I was proud of it.
As we stepped from the boardwalk onto the wraparound deck of the lodge, I took another fortifying breath. One of the catering staff opened a door for us, and as we stepped inside, I saw them.
Jesse and Katie.
In the middle of the room, dancing slow and kind of making out, laughing as they pawed at each other like no one else in the lodge, or the universe, existed. Pretty much their usual mode.
Everything was as it should be, then.
A few other people were dancing; most were talking, drinking and snacking on hors d’oeuvres. Besides the lodge staff, the catering team bustling in and out, and Jude’s security guys, there were about forty or so guests, all VIPs—close family, members of the wedding party and their dates—here for the rehearsal in preparation for the wedding tomorrow, which would be attended by another sixty or so guests. All of whom I knew.
But as we started across the room, despite all the familiar faces, I had eyes for only one person; one person who clearly wasn’t here.
I didn’t see her. Anywhere. And Jessa Mayes was pretty fucking hard to miss.
I didn’t see Jude either, so I couldn’t even ask him where the fuck she was. Saw Roni in the corner, flirting with one of his security guys, though, so at least their plane had landed.
“You wanna dance?” Amanda asked, just as the Rolling Stones’ “Wild Horses” started playing.
Christ. What was with all the soul-sucking love songs?
Right. Wedding.
“After I introduce you around,” I told her, steering her past the dance floor. The more people she knew, I figured, the more likely she might have a good time—despite the fact that she was here with me.
I took her over to greet the other members of Dirty—also pretty hard to miss. Zane, our lead singer, with his white-blond mohawk, demonic beard twisted into a braid, eyebrow piercings and ice-sharp blue eyes with just that little bit of crazy in them—wearing jeans and a black leather vest, because that was semiformal wear for Zane. And Dylan, our drummer, his six-and-a-half-foot frame making him the tallest dude in the room; add to that his unruly, flaming auburn hair and athletic build, poured into leather pants and a cashmere sweater, and even if I hadn’t seen them, all I’d have to do was follow the batting eyelashes.
Wherever these guys went, a trail of drooling women was sure to follow, and there were about a half-dozen flocked around now, including Katie’s mom. Yeah; we probably could’ve made these guys a decent career in music even if they had zero musical talent.
Lucky for us all, they had it in spades.
Both of them were grinning like fools as Amanda and I waded through the pheromones. They looked just a little too happy, which in my experience was rarely a good thing. When these two got up to shit they were like a couple of idiots on the playground; neither of them could back down from a dare.
“No bullshit at Jesse’s wedding,” I told them, straight-up. I didn’t have it in me to deal with their shenanigans on top of everything else.
“Nope,” Dylan said. “Just saying how good it is to see Jessa. Jesse’s so fucking happy. Kinda feels like a reunion.”
“Yeah, we could get her to stick around for a bit, we could actually make it one,” Zane said. “You know, get her out to jam, write some killer shit.”
“Yeah,” I said. “If we could.” I looked around for someone to introduce Amanda to, so I didn’t have to tell Zane, here and now, that was a shit idea. And never gonna happen.
Jessa Mayes’ days of songwriting with Dirty were over.
Long over.
She’d made her choice, six-and-a-half years ago. She’d walked away from the band and never looked back. Fucking thing was, I knew for a fact every member of the band was more than willing to let that slide if she’d just come back and write with them again. Especially Jesse; he’d loved that girl from the second she came into the world, and he wasn’t about to stop. When Jessa was born, her four-year-old brother had named her—after himself—forging a bond that would never be broken. He would always have her back, would never turn against her, no matter what shit she pulled.
Not me.
It was my job to look out for the band, and I was never gonna let Jessa Mayes fuck us all over again.
“What’s your deal, Bro?” Zane looked from me to Amanda and back with a devious grin; clearly, something wasn’t adding up. People could say what they wanted about Zane being a lunatic, but the man wasn’t stupid.
“Yeah, man,” Dylan said. “I’m sensing a general aura of funk.”
Great. If it was that obvious something was off, even to
