Escaping Perfect by Emma Harrison Page A

he was cut off when his father walked out of the kitchen carrying two large paper to-go bags.
    â€œLia, your shift’s almost up. You mind delivering this over to Daria Case’s house? Apparently Jasper’s band got hungry mid–jam session.” His tone was slightly sarcastic, as it was whenever he spoke about Jasper.
    There was a distinct shift in Duncan’s posture, his expression darkening.
    â€œDaria’s house? I thought she lived over the salon.”
    The three of them looked at me kind of funny. “Daria hasn’t lived up there in years. She’s got a house over on Greenwood,” Hal said.
    â€œOh.” Crap. There went my stupid mouth again. “I . . . uh . . . I guess I just assumed . . .” I grabbed the bags from Hal. “Yes, I can bring them. No problem.”
    Anything to get out of here right now.
    Besides, the thought of seeing Jasper was definitely intriguing. I’d promised myself I’d stay away from him, and I had also been warned in no uncertain terms to stay away from him, but I needed to know if he’d remembered me last night. And also, okay, I wanted to see him.
    So much for romance not being my focus.
    â€œI’ll do it, Dad,” Duncan said, eyeing me as I untied my apron. “She doesn’t even have a car.”
    â€œIt’s a short walk,” Hal said. He tore a page off one of the order pads and scratched out directions on the back beforehanding it to me. “She can take one of the umbrellas from the lost and found.”
    â€œYeah, but—”
    â€œIt’s fine,” I told them both. “I could use the fresh air.”
    Hal passed me an umbrella and I headed for the door, cradling the bags. Duncan looked so forlorn, I felt a small twinge of guilt. It was nice to be noticed by someone like him. It was nice to be noticed by anyone. And I felt like I was squashing his hopes under the heels of my new black boots.
    â€œI do appreciate the chivalry, though,” I told him.
    Duncan grunted. “You just remember that when you’re in the presence of the great Jasper Case.”
    *  *  *
    Aside from a few porch lights, the house at 221 Greenwood Lane was dark, but the detached garage was ablaze with light. Rain battered the umbrella over my head as I shifted the straw handles on the bags inside my palm. The bags were heavy, and the straps had been cutting into my flesh throughout the walk. It was a warm night, even with the rain, and a trickle of sweat wove down my spine. In fact, I felt clammy all over and wished like anything I had looked in the mirror for wayward swipes of chocolate or ketchup on my person before trekking out to see Jasper. Which was probably why I didn’t notice the lack of music until I was almost right outside thegarage’s side door. That’s when a cymbal crashed and almost scared the life out of me.
    â€œWhat the f—”
    â€œYou know, I’d heard you were a controlling jackass, but I chose not to believe it,” someone shouted. “Bad on me.”
    â€œBenny,” a girl’s voice said in a conciliatory tone.
    â€œWell, excuse me for trying to get our name out there!” Jasper’s voice. “I was just hoping to get us some exposure!”
    â€œThat’s all well and good, but you can’t just go around booking gigs without runnin’ ’em by us!” the first voice shouted again. “My baby girl’s birthday party is that day, and there’s no way I’m missin’ it. Cheryl’ll kick my ass to the curb if I do.”
    Silence.
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo . . . what?” Jasper asked.
    â€œAre you gonna get us out of it or what?”
    â€œI can’t! If I cancel now, they’re never gonna ask me—us—to play there again!”
    â€œGod. You are so transparent.” The girl’s voice cut in now. “It’s all about you,