Page 55 of One More Bad Boy

“You’ll love it anyway. I should have warned you, these things turn your teeth purple. Get used to carrying a toothbrush around.”

“Is that a thing? Do people just carry toothbrushes with them everywhere they go?”

She quirked a plucked eyebrow. “People who get their pictures taken all day long? Yes, they carry toothbrushes. And makeup sets. And hair straighteners.”

“I'm never going to carry one of those.”

She put her cheek on her first as she squinted at my short hair. “You're lucky you don't have to.”

“Wait, doyoucarry one around?”

“I’ll tell you, ifyoutell me about yourself first.”

I snorted incredulously. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Come on. I'm asking out of genuine interest. Where are you from? Were your parents musicians, too?”

Ah, dammit. This was a conversation I preferred to avoid. Leaning back in my seat, I scanned the counter, willing our waiter to interrupt us. When he didn’t, I gave in to Violet’s patient smile. “I’m from Texas. My parents weren’t industry pros, but they tolerated my constant whining that they sing with me. Oh, and Mom could play guitar. She taught me some when I asked her.”

“Huh.” Violet sipped her water. I wished I had something to stall with, too. “You make it sound like they got into music just for you.”

I cracked a fond smile. “Dad said I was born singing and never stopped.”

“Where are they now?”

And like that, the familiar stone rolled onto my heart. I clenched up in my chair. “Dead.”

“Oh, god. Both of them?”

“Car accident,” I whispered.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

Trying to make myself sound chipper, I looked at her and shrugged. “Life happens.”

“Still, that’s rough for anyone. Can I ask how old you were?”

I wished she wouldn’t. “Fifteen.”

“Shit,” she mumbled. “You were so young.” Her face scrunched as a thought hit her. “Did you move in with other family members?”

“My aunt.” I shuddered at that sour memory.

“Wow, you just went crazy pale,” she noted.

I glanced at my reflection in the window.She’s right, I’ve gone green.Talking about my mother’s older sister was hard. It forced me to relive a part of my life I was eager to shove into a dark well. I had to change the subject fast. “What about your parents?”

“Mine? Alive on the outside, the jury is out on the rest.” Violet chuckled to take the sting out of her insult. “They’re not the kindest people. I don’t see them much.”

“They live far away?”

“Oh, no. They’re down in Long Beach.” She twirled her straw before looking me in the eye. “Maybe I was being too coy before. My parents are assholes, we don’t get along.”

“Sorry,” I said on impulse.

“Don’t be. They drove me away, and I used that ‘assistance’ to get into an amazing career.”

“Huh. You like working for Bach?”

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