Page 39 of Fresh Tracks
That little glimmer of hope that she might want to know more about me, for reasons outside of work, is crushed.
“Rainbow,” I say, my eyes locking onto hers. “If you ever want to know anything about me, just ask. That said,” I tilt my head toward the TV. “That was a good show. You can hit play, even if you’re going to make me feel old as shit watching this. Were you even born yet?”
We both settle into the couch, as the video resumes. She takesa drink from her glass and my eyes can’t look away from the way her lips part.
“For the record, you’re way cooler now, even if you don’t have the whole bad boy thing going on anymore. So knock it off with that self-deprecating shit, TJ.”
A deep laugh rumbles up from my chest, prompting her to look back at me like I have two heads.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, almost defensively.
“I was never abad boy. Apparently you fell for my act, just like everyone else. It was great for selling magazines and albums. What do you kids call that now? Clickbait?
She grins at me before looking at the TV, pausing it at the opportune moment when I jumped across the stage and decided to kick an amplifier over. “Not a bad boy, huh?”
I wince and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, noting her eyes lingering on me. “OK. That looks bad, but still just an act.”
“You’re telling me the cut off flannels, pierced eyebrow, messy hair, and barbwire tattoo was all an act? You still dress like that and that tattoo is still very real. You’re telling me it was already just an act for you at that point? You had to be what, maybe twenty-five at that concert?”
I take a gulp from my glass and set it down on the coffee table to gesture at the screen. “You’re right. I could get pretty riled up on stage, performing. I’ll tell you what I remember about that concert though. Or after, I guess, if we’re being technical about it.”
She sits up, turning to face me and crossing her legs, her knees pressing into my thigh. Her sudden focus on me makes my mouth go dry. I remember what it felt like when she stared into my eyes all those months ago singing karaoke. Or what it felt like having her listen to me on the river. Knowing that she’s choosing to give me the time of day does things to me.
“We were back at our hotel. Vince and the other guys wereup way too late partying. That’s why we always got adjoining but separate rooms. After a show, I always just wanted to go to bed. That rush of adrenaline would wipe me out. Sometimes if I was really still feeling it, I’d stay up and try to write.”
“Vince was your drummer, right? And who was the guy that played bass?” she asks, looking eager for me to continue.
“Yeah, Vince,” I nod before continuing, “and that would be Stan on bass. So that night, I’m laying in bed. I have a throbbing headache and my ears are still ringing. I can’t fall asleep, then I hear shouting next door. I get up and go into their room to find them all standing on the balcony looking down at the pool. Fucking idiot, Vince, was convinced he could throw the hotel TV off the balcony and reach the pool. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal if there weren’t people still down there. He’s lucky no one got hurt.”
Shock flashes across her face. “I remember hearing that story. You got banned from that hotel chain for that stunt. But everyone always blamed you.”
I grab my wine, smiling back at her, not saying a word.
Her lips part and I see the moment of realization. “You were just letting everyone think you were the troublemaker? Tommy Jacob, the bad boy frontman was all just an act?”
I clink my glass to hers. “You got it.”
The surprised smile she gives me is nearly blinding. “But why? Even as a kid, I knew your reputation from Veronica gushing over Teal Tigers to Tanner and Collin.”
“That’s exactly why I did it. The other guys, they had real problems. Drinking, drugs, rocky relationships. Vince always meant well, but he was just so impressionable. And Stan, well, he always thought the next girl was ‘the one’, getting distracted and missing sound checks. It was hard enough keeping those things under wraps and the band together through it all. I just wanted to keep everything together because I loved the music andperforming so much. I lived for writing songs and pouring my heart out on stage.”
She still looks back at me with a mix of stunned disbelief, slapping me on my thigh. The impact quickly reminds me of my aching balls from what she does to me. “Who would have guessed the infamous Tommy Jacob was such a softy?”
“I never said I was soft.” I’m definitely anything butsoftright now. I try not to focus on that thought as I grab the remote, pressing play and relaxing back into the couch. She doesn’t look back at the TV though, just fixed on me.
“You really covered for your friends like that for years?”
I shrug. “I was the kid that grew up in foster care, bouncing from home to home for years. The guys were all from nice neighborhoods and had money growing up. No one batted an eye that I was the bad boy in Teal Tigers.”
She leans forward to top off our wine before readjusting back next to me, still pressed against my side. This close, I can smell her shampoo — a mix of lavender and lemon that I know I’ll never forget.
“Where did the name Teal Tigers come from?” she asks, keeping her eyes on the TV, but resting her head on my shoulder. “I’ve heard rumors, but are any of them true?”
Jesus. I know she’s not one for physical boundaries and I’m probably reading too much into it, but sitting with her like this feels intimate and I like it.
Snorting a laugh, I think back to those early days when we were just riffing in garages. “That’s another Vince story. He was drunk one night and kept saying he wanted to see a ‘real tiger’. He was slurring so bad, it just sounded like he kept saying ‘teal’. Teal Tiger. I guess his parents never took him to a zoo or something. Anyway, we never let him live that down. Clearly.”
She laughs to herself and I can feel the vibration in my ownchest, craving everything about her being this close. “He sounds like quite the character.”
