I stopped at the window, watching her as she hurried toward the bus stop. So damn grateful the escort thing was over.
Ray pushed herself too hard and avoided relationships like it was a dreaded disease… She’d dated while in high school, and had one semi-serious relationship, then Travis had moved.
A black Porsche slid to a halt in front of the apartment and double-parked, distracting me from my thoughts. Taking another sip of my chocolatey drink, I watched the tall, strikingly handsome, dark-haired guy jogging up the front steps. I would have thought he was headed for my neighbor’s, except I knew him.
Jack Griffin. Max’s friend.
I set my mug on the sideboard as the expected rap on the wood sounded. I opened the door. “Hello, Jack.”
Ice-gray eyes skimmed over me in one fast glide.
Huh? Why was he checking out my clothes? I liked my claret-hued jersey knit dress and knee-high black boots. I arched an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
“You're dressed right for where we’re going. C’mon,” he said, sprinting back for his Porsche.
The only reason Jack would be here—crap! “Wait-wait, what’s going on—is it Max?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.”
Worry hiking, I grabbed my jacket and bag, locked up, and tore after Jack. As he sped off, cutting through the heavy noon traffic, he filled me in. “Max is going to play.”
“Oh, no!”
“Since you didn’t know, I’m guessing you objected?” Jack cut me a dark look. “He needs his music. And you should be supporting him against the ‘gator-face’ music director.”
“I’m not objecting,” I snapped in annoyance. “I know how much Max loves his music, but I’m so afraid this will blow out of control and put him back in the limelight, where he hates it.”
“Unlikely.”
“What do you mean ‘unlikely?’” I snapped. “Anything Max does is cause for media consumption. They’re like damn vultures.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered, his expression dark. Then I realized, he was from the same social strata as Max; of course, he’d have the press on his tail, too. “If the media circus is around, there’ll be damage control. But dickhead should have let him play, even if he flunked him.”
While I appreciated Jack’s loyalty, I didn’t want Max caught in the tabloid’s ridicule again. I’d seen the photos in the newspaper Kate had handed to me of Max and me at the fair. Paint splashed all over us.
Has media’s favorite bad boy finally been hooked?
The headlines splashed the social pages. Along with news of who I was. Probably, someone from the store had given them all the info about me. And worse, they’d rehashed his mother’s death again. The drunk driving…
Damn leeches.
Max hadn’t said anything about this latest invasion of his life. But I was so grateful they hadn’t tracked us to my home as yet. And hoped it stayed that way.
“Don’t worry, I have a backup plan in place,” Jack said.
God! I scrubbed my face, dreading to think what that was, and prayed nothing horrible happened. Max could be so stubborn at times. It was probably why he hadn’t told me. I guess I should be thanking Jack instead. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“No problem. You’ll just have to protect me when he comes after my balls for bringing you, but I thought you should be there.”
A smile tugged at my mouth. These guys had no filters whatsoever.
Jack didn’t take me to the Conservatory but to a hall downtown. He ushered me into a dimly lit theatre. On the stage, with spotlight cast over him, a longhaired guy dressed smartly in a button-down shirt and dress pants played a violin solo.
Men and women occupied a few of the center rows near the stage. Several more were seated throughout the place.
Jack ushered me to a seat at the back. War slouched in one, looked up, and grunted. “He hasn’t come on yet. No fights either—pity, but all looks good.”
What was with these guys and cheering for a ruckus?
