pro, he’d have found a way.”
Joss turned back to him. “He didn’t have to because I made it easy for him. That’s why I’ve got to be a part of this.”
Her face was pinched and pale with misery. It was the face of the hurt kid, again, looking back at him, and all he wanted to do was fix things. “We’ll get it back,” he said helplessly, knowing there couldn’t be any other outcome.
“It has to be we, Bax. It can’t be just you. Gwen already did more than her part. Now I have to do mine. I need to know that I was a part of it.”
“You will be,” he assured her with a sinking heart and folded her against him. “We’ll do it together.”
10
C LOUDS DRIFTED IN as they sat in the torg, watching the tour boats come and go from the dock.
“So how are you doing now?” Bax asked and kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”
“What, with the gun thing?” Joss stirred and grinned at him. “I’m tougher than you think, Bax. I’ve played some truly scary dives, slept on the street, even gotten mugged once. There’s not a whole lot that gets to me.”
At their feet, a pigeon trundled along, searching for crumbs on the pavement.
“So what’s with the whole music thing? You mentioned it last night, too.”
“My brilliant career, or at least that was the plan.” It was increasingly embarrassing to talk about, increasingly discouraging to realize that she’d devoted seven years of her life to music with almost no success. How clueless did that make her?
And where did it leave her now?
“So what were you, a singer? A musician? Both?”
“A singer. Or maybe just wanted to be. I was going to be the next big thing, a huge star.” She sat up and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “It didn’t quite work out that way.”
“Band broke up?”
“Bands,” she corrected. “I’ve played with one group or another all over the Pacific Northwest.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.” Her smile held no humor. “I’m a slow study sometimes.” How she’d loved performing, the feeling when everything clicked, the band in a groove, the audience feeding into it. It had been because of those magical nights that she’d had such a hard time finally giving it up. “I just really loved doing it,” she said wistfully.
“Then why quit?”
“Because sooner or later you’ve got to admit that it’s not going to work, you know?”
“Couldn’t you work a day job and still perform nights?”
She reached down to pick a small stone up off the cobbles, rolling it between her hands. “I suppose. The problem is the day job. I don’t really know how to do anything.”
“College?”
“A year. I dropped out of the drama program to go on the road with the first band. We were going to do a spring and summer tour of small clubs. I never went back. Used to do street theatre for food money.”
“Street theatre?”
“Merlinda the Magnificent.” She held up the stone between her thumb and forefinger and passed her other hand across it. “Voila!” The stone was gone.
“Nice.”
“Oh, I was a big hit on the pedestrian mall circuit. I probably made more money at that than singing.”
“So what comes next?”
It was the question that kept scaring the hell out of her. “TBD. The last band went kaput the week before I came back to San Francisco and went to work for my grandfather’s store. It was supposed to be a temporarygig while I got my act together, only I managed to screw everything up.”
“We’re going to fix that.”
“And then all I have to do is decide what to do with my life,” she said wryly.
“Sooner or later, we all do.”
Joss tossed her hair back and rose, catching his hand in hers. It wasn’t in her nature to be gloomy for long. “This is not a crisis. I’ll work it out. Sorry to bend your ear.”
“You weren’t bending my ear. It was educational.”
“Educational?”
“Joss Chastain 101.”
“You’ve been doing very well in the course so far.” They
Joss turned back to him. “He didn’t have to because I made it easy for him. That’s why I’ve got to be a part of this.”
Her face was pinched and pale with misery. It was the face of the hurt kid, again, looking back at him, and all he wanted to do was fix things. “We’ll get it back,” he said helplessly, knowing there couldn’t be any other outcome.
“It has to be we, Bax. It can’t be just you. Gwen already did more than her part. Now I have to do mine. I need to know that I was a part of it.”
“You will be,” he assured her with a sinking heart and folded her against him. “We’ll do it together.”
10
C LOUDS DRIFTED IN as they sat in the torg, watching the tour boats come and go from the dock.
“So how are you doing now?” Bax asked and kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”
“What, with the gun thing?” Joss stirred and grinned at him. “I’m tougher than you think, Bax. I’ve played some truly scary dives, slept on the street, even gotten mugged once. There’s not a whole lot that gets to me.”
At their feet, a pigeon trundled along, searching for crumbs on the pavement.
“So what’s with the whole music thing? You mentioned it last night, too.”
“My brilliant career, or at least that was the plan.” It was increasingly embarrassing to talk about, increasingly discouraging to realize that she’d devoted seven years of her life to music with almost no success. How clueless did that make her?
And where did it leave her now?
“So what were you, a singer? A musician? Both?”
“A singer. Or maybe just wanted to be. I was going to be the next big thing, a huge star.” She sat up and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “It didn’t quite work out that way.”
“Band broke up?”
“Bands,” she corrected. “I’ve played with one group or another all over the Pacific Northwest.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.” Her smile held no humor. “I’m a slow study sometimes.” How she’d loved performing, the feeling when everything clicked, the band in a groove, the audience feeding into it. It had been because of those magical nights that she’d had such a hard time finally giving it up. “I just really loved doing it,” she said wistfully.
“Then why quit?”
“Because sooner or later you’ve got to admit that it’s not going to work, you know?”
“Couldn’t you work a day job and still perform nights?”
She reached down to pick a small stone up off the cobbles, rolling it between her hands. “I suppose. The problem is the day job. I don’t really know how to do anything.”
“College?”
“A year. I dropped out of the drama program to go on the road with the first band. We were going to do a spring and summer tour of small clubs. I never went back. Used to do street theatre for food money.”
“Street theatre?”
“Merlinda the Magnificent.” She held up the stone between her thumb and forefinger and passed her other hand across it. “Voila!” The stone was gone.
“Nice.”
“Oh, I was a big hit on the pedestrian mall circuit. I probably made more money at that than singing.”
“So what comes next?”
It was the question that kept scaring the hell out of her. “TBD. The last band went kaput the week before I came back to San Francisco and went to work for my grandfather’s store. It was supposed to be a temporarygig while I got my act together, only I managed to screw everything up.”
“We’re going to fix that.”
“And then all I have to do is decide what to do with my life,” she said wryly.
“Sooner or later, we all do.”
Joss tossed her hair back and rose, catching his hand in hers. It wasn’t in her nature to be gloomy for long. “This is not a crisis. I’ll work it out. Sorry to bend your ear.”
“You weren’t bending my ear. It was educational.”
“Educational?”
“Joss Chastain 101.”
“You’ve been doing very well in the course so far.” They
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