Although Grady is very obviously well on his way to being drunk, I can see that he genuinely thought his proposition would be accepted.
“It’s all right, Grady. I can only imagine what goes on in these rooms. No harm, no foul. I know Jet from . . . we met at a . . . group activity.”
Grady’s brows shoot up, and I blush. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I was going to say “meeting,” but realized that might sound suspicious if Jet didn’t want anyone to know.
“A ‘group activity’? Holy shit, I’m the best team player you’ve ever met!”
I can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Not that kind of group activity.”
“Oh. Damn,” he mutters, deflated. “Well, whatever kind of group thing it is, if everyone else looks like you, count me in.” He pauses as if to reconsider. “Unless it has anything to do with ogling danglers. I don’t swing that way.”
“Neither do I, dumbass, and that’s not what she means anyway. We met at a . . . meeting.”
Jet looks meaningfully at Grady, and, after a few seconds, Grady finally seems to get it.
“Ahhh, I see,” he says in realization. Then, as if something else occurred to him, he says a brighter, “Oh! Really? This is—”
“I think you’ve made this awkward enough, Grady. Why don’t you tell Violet good night? I’m sure she’s more than ready to go home.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce her around?”
Jet sighs and runs his fingers through his damp hair. He glances back at me and asks, “Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” I say politely, even though I’m very much ready to leave.
Jet takes my hand and we walk to the center of the room. He looks around at his bandmates, as do I. Strangely, they all look the same—dark hair, rocker clothes, tattoos, and piercings. And all draped in women. Even Grady has already made his way back to the girl with the champagne-soaked shirt.
Seeing that they’re all otherwise occupied with their . . . entertainment, Jet glances down at me and grins, saying, “Maybe I should do formal introductions another time.”
I smile up at him. “Maybe that’s best.”
“How ’bout I just point ’em out?”
“That works.”
I watch him survey his friends. He starts to his left, pointing to the band member who did have a girl under each arm. Now, however, he’s juggling three, as the one who was taking pictures has joined in the fun. “That’s Leo. He does a little of everything.”
“I can see that.”
Jet grins as he continues. “He plays, keyboard, jumps in on vocals. He’s a really funny guy,” Jet says, his smile turning wry, “you just can’t tell it right now.”
“Oh, I can tell. He looks like he put the fun in funny,” I say dryly.
Jet laughs. “He’s not usually quite this much fun. He’s got a lot going on. Probably blowing off some steam.” He turns his attention to the next person sprawled out on the furniture, one I’ve already met. “You met Grady. He’s the drummer.”
“Yes, how could I forget?”
“That guy,” he says, pointing to the one who had his tongue stuck down some poor girl’s throat five minutes ago and is now firing up a bong with a totally different one, “is Sam. He plays bass and pretty much anything else with strings.” He moves quickly on from Sam, pointing over to two guys talking in the corner. They look embroiled in something serious. Probably business. “And you met Harley at the bachelor party. He’s our manager. That’s Trent he’s talking to. You met him already, too.” Trent is the enormous security guard.
“Yes, I remember them both.”
He finally turns back to me. “So that’s it. That’s everybody. For now anyway. Seems like there’s always somebody coming or going. Might be a whole different place back here in a week.”
“They’re just as I imagined rock stars to be,” I say uncomfortably.
Jet frowns down at me. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I’m fine. I’m just ready to go whenever you are.”
“How about now?”
I sigh in relief. “Now sounds good.”
With my hand still in his, he grabs his shirt and leads me out the back entrance and around the building to the parking lot. He pauses only long enough to slip on his shirt, then takes my hand again and we continue our silent walk to my car, where he stops and gestures for my keys. I give them to him. He unlocks the door and holds it open for me.
“Why don’t you follow me back to Greenfield? There’s a place I want to show you.”
I nod, keeping my smile to a polite curve rather than the beam it feels like. I’m glad the night isn’t over. I don’t want it to be.
“Okay. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’ll pull around and flash my lights, okay? Give me five minutes.”
I nod and slide behind the wheel. Jet closes my door and winks at me through the driver’s side window as he backs away. The gesture sets the butterflies in my stomach aflutter. My pulse is humming along nicely by the time he turns to jog back the way we came.
Three minutes later, I see Jet’s car as he weaves through the rows to get to me. As promised, he flashes his lights as he passes. I can see his smile as he drives by. My butterflies react accordingly.
I follow him all the way back to Greenfield. My mind has wandered the entire way, guessing where he might be taking me, reveling in the anticipation of it. When he pulls into the dark parking lot of a park near the middle school, I’m a bit more confused than excited.
Jet parks and then gets out and comes to open my door when my engine is shut off. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t offer an explanation, just takes my hand and leads me through the darkness and the trees to a set of swings that face the playground and the front of the school beyond.
He holds a swing for me and I sit in it, wrapping my fingers around the cool metal chain and pushing off. Gently, I move back and forth as Jet takes the one next to me. His feet don’t leave the ground as he sways, and his eyes don’t leave the shadowy, moonlit view ahead.
“Is something wrong?” I finally ask.
He’s silent for a long time. So long, in fact, I wonder if he heard me at all. But then, minutes later, I hear his quiet response.
“I’m sorry I brought you backstage tonight.”
“Why?”