Megan swung her gaze to me. “You know Jamison DuCaine?” She shook her head. “Never mind, you all probably have some crazy club you all belong to.”
“It doesn’t exactly work that way.” If someone looked in my phone they’d call me a liar, but James was one of the few musicians I knew who I considered a friend.
James jerked a thumb at me. “I met this one in a seedy club in Brooklyn and we danced on tables until dawn.”
Megan’s jaw dropped further.
“She’s lying.” My lips twitched. “It was Manhattan.”
“Was it?”
“Yeah, it was the Bonfire Club in Midtown.”
“Oh right. Man, we were babies.” She nudged my shoulder. “I didn’t know you had it in you to drink me under the table.”
Before she had Megan talking about me to every foiled head for the next four weeks, I dragged her over to the barista with a wave. “We’ve got a full day. It was nice to see you again. I’ll see you in a few weeks for my appointment.”
“Oh, right. I’ll see you later.” Megan craned her neck, disappointment on her face.
“What?” James snickered. “Do they not know what a bad girl you used to be, Sparkles?”
“No. And they do not need to know the details.” I’d definitely made poor choices when I was younger. I’d gotten myself in a lot of trouble thanks to an injury from falling through the stage during a show. The kind that came with a twelve-step program to get over it.
Luckily, the label and my team had been able to keep that one out of the news, but it had been a close thing.
James rolled her eyes. “If you didn’t get arrested, it doesn’t count.”
“Not everyone has your rap sheet, James.”
“That’s true. I actually got arrested in Madrid last fall. You should have seen the master sergeant’s face. I was pretty sure he was going to pop a blood vessel by the time he bailed me out.”
“Do I want to know what you did?”
She grinned. “More likewhoI did.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need to know.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you with some tequila later.”
“Oh, no. There will be no tequila.”
“C’mon. I brought a bottle from Nash’s reserve box. Not that he knows I stole it—yet.”
Alexander Nash was engaged to the lead singer in James’s band. “Does Lindsey know?”
She shook her head. “Where’s the fun in that?” She leaned against the counter and gave the barista a cheeky smile. “What’s good here, babe?”
“Uh.” She pitched her voice low. “Are you really Jamison DuCaine?”
James lowered her voice. “No.”The girl looked so confused that even James had to show some mercy. “I’m kidding. Yes, I am.”
She practically vibrated, but took a deep breath and tried for some decorum. “Um, depends on if you like cinnamon or would prefer something with a more mint flavor?”
“I like it spicy.”
“Oh, then I’d go with the Spiced Cinnamon Dream. It’ll make your tongue burn and the espresso will give you a kick.”
“Sounds good to me. Make it a quad shot. I’ll take one of those orange scone things too and a half dozen chocolate chip cookies. All to go.” James wandered down to look at other baked goods in the case.
