Page 79 of Vespertine
Nicky’s smile went sour at that description. “I’ve nevertold you about what happened between us. You only know the music.”
“The music is loud, pretty boy. But feel free to explainyourself. I’m listening. And I swear on my soul not to spill the beans to TMZ.”
Nicky scrubbed at his face and considered. What did he haveto lose? Making friends with his bandmates was something on his sobriety to-dolist anyway. And Ramona had always cared about him.
“Where do you want me to start?”
She pondered. “His name. So, really, his parents named himJazz? Did they hate him or something?”
“His name’s Jasper. I’m the one who started calling himJazz. His mother hated it.” He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive CrystalHendricks for what she’d told Jazz to drive him away, even if he did forgiveJazz for believing it.
“I bet she did.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, it’s just the way you say it. ‘Jazz,’like you’re in awe of everything about him and you’re going to fall to yourknees and worship him…with your mouth.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Theway you feel about him? It’s all over you when you say his name. Like glitteror something. You can’t ever get that shit off. Glitter is the herpes of thecraft world. Don’t get herpes from this Jazz guy, Nico.”
“Nicky. And we’re friends.”
“Yeah. Right.”
He blew out a breath, frustrated. “He’s a priest, for fuck’ssake.”
Ramona slapped her hands down on the desk and the iPad fellover, giving him a view of her braless breasts in a loose yellow cottonsleeveless T-shirt. Then her face appeared again. “Holy freaking shit balls.Are you seriously fucking a priest?”
“What do you not understand about ‘we’re friends’? Friendsdon’t fuck.”
“Uh-huh. Why don’t you start at the beginning, because ifthat is how you look when you talk about your friends, you must hate the fuckout of me and Mick and Sez, because youneverlooklike that when you talk about us.”
“The beginning of what?”
“The beginning of why you’ve written a hundred thousand lovesongs about a guy who is married to Jesus.”
“I don’t think priests marry Jesus, do they? That’s nunsright?”
“How would I know? My mom was Southern Baptist, and talkingabout marrying Jesus in that bunch was a big enough sin to burn in hell.”Ramona looked thoughtful. “Do you think Jesus was good in bed? He was probablypretty patient and self-controlled, don’t you think? And he was a carpenter’sson. He knew how to work with his hands.”
“We’ve never had a conversation like this before.”
“Because you were always higher than heaven. And before yougot hooked, you were always weird and distant.”
“I like feeling this way. Sometimes I’m afraid themedication will stop working and I’ll wake up tomorrow back in that same oldcage.”
“Ah man, Nico, that could break a girl’s heart. Have somefaith.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Maybe. No promises.”
“Can you call me Nicky?”
“Nicky, huh?” Ramona looked at him through the screen likeshe was weighing the name. “Sure. Why not?”
“Thanks.”
“Give me the dirt. I want to know. Then I’ll sell it toPeopleand pay the assholes in charge enough to get us thefuck out of our crappy contract.”
“Sorry. NoPeople.”
