“Eggnog Latte with extra nutmeg for me and a Lumberjack on pumpernickel.”
James craned her neck. “Lumberjack?”
I pointed to the menu and she practically drooled. “Oh, I’ll have one of those on an everything bagel, too.”
The barista nodded and got to work.
“Still a black hole for a stomach, huh?”
“Lindz hates me. Especially now that we firmly passed thirty. My metabolism still runs like it owes someone money.”
“Lucky girl. I swear I’ve gained at least ten pounds since I’ve been home. For once, I don’t give a shit.”
“That’s because you’ve got your own lumberjack holding you down for a good chop.”
“There’s a visual.”
“The heat in your face says I ain’t lying.”
I couldn’t disagree so I kept my mouth shut. “So, what are you guys doing in New York? I know you’re doing the Christmas deal, but I thought you guys were still on an international tour?”
“We start back up in February. We ended up adding dates for Australia and New Zealand as well, so we needed those paper pushers to figure out dates. The sooner the better, I’m bored as fuck.”
“You always hate to be off tour.”
“Since we figured out how to record on our tour bus, I never really need to stop. Works for me.”
“Don’t you get tired?”
“Nah. I’m revved when I’m on stage. All those people screaming and singing back to us...man, there’s nothing like it.”
I used to think the same, but by the end of this last tour it had felt too much like a job. And that wasn’t fair to the fans.
“You’re all set.”
I smiled at the barista and handed over my card. The girl got brave enough to ask for a picture and James made her year with a few badass poses before we left with a large handle bag full of food and two hot coffees. Having James blast my business all over Haven wasn’t high on my list so I pointed her back to the house instead of cruising around town like I’d planned.
“This town is...cute.”
“It’s not exactly your style.”
“No, but I can see the appeal. I’d literally shrivel up and die, but it works for you. At least based on the beard burn on your neck and that you don’t look like a ballerina on meth anymore.”
“Geez, James.”
“What? I saw the videos from your last show. The fans only saw that you were kicking ass, but I am well aware what the edge looks like and you were well past it on the way to crashing into the cliffs.”
“God, you saw the videos, too? You hate my music.”
“I don’t hate your music. It could just use a harder guitar edge if you ask me.”
“You think everything needs more guitar.”
“Because I’m correct.” She hopped up into the Jeep and started backing out of the spot before I had my seatbelt on. She paused at the turn onto Destiny. “Speaking of. Play those songs for me.” She handed me the cord for the CarPlay system.
“Now?”
“Yeah. If it’s playable in a car thing the song is already halfway there.”
