Yes. I was a Jax-junkie. I had wanted him this whole time I was hating him, and now that I had my taste, I wanted him even more.

And who says I can't have him?

The thought sent me sitting bolt upright in bed. Who said? There was no rule that said I didn't get to enjoy myself while I was here. In ten days, our parents would be married and I would go back home again and it would be like nothing had happened.

I could have him, drink my fill, and then be done with him forever. Get him out of my system. On my terms. Once and for all.

A little fling, for old time's sake. A tiny bit of revenge for thinking he could cast me aside.

The small, rational part of me cried out in protest, that this was a terrible idea, but desire silenced it. I was a grown woman now, older and wiser after heartbreak. I deserved something casual and light with the hot guy who knew what my body needed. Meaningless sex, just like millions of other people enjoyed every day. That's all it needed to be.

It didn't have to mean anything.

It was fine. I wasn't doing anything wrong.

Everything would be fine.

Chapter Twenty

Jax

The green room smelled like stale cigarettes. Ghosts of all the bands who'd sat here, nervously killing time before the show started. Smoking was terrible for my voice, but when Toad shook his pack at me, I gratefully accepted a butt.

I wasn't nervous about playing, I told myself. I was nervous because of who would be watching tonight.

Liliana said she'd come, and so I knew she would. She had never let me down, and I couldn't imagine her doing it now. Not after that wild-eyed look she had given me when I asked her to come tonight.

I inhaled deeply, feeling the sharp sting of the smoke filling my lungs and hoping it would push out the memory of her coming apart around my fingers. If I started down that train of thought, I would never be able to focus onstage.

When she left me, I spiraled down pretty quickly, and Annie bundled me off to her high-priced therapist before I caused her a scandal. It was, predictably, a waste of time for all of us. Blah, blah, my mother was never an appropriate mother, bullshit, bullshit—but one thing I did learn was that I needed to make things up to all of the people I'd wronged if I ever had hope of feeling good again.

I went home that evening and I wrote an apology in the form of a poem. Then I set that poem to music. I locked myself in my hotel room for three full days, recording on a four-track. Then I went across the hall.

Greg Fingers and Bash were in the suite, which was totally normal. Thank God it was them, and not my mother, because if it had been her that answered my knock, I would have never had the nerve to do what I did next.

"Hey, can I play something for you guys?"

"Lay it on me," Greg drawled in his slightly slurred speech. He wasn't drunk, he just perpetually sounded that way after, in his words, "smoking something weird."

"You joinin' the family business?" Bash was twitching with his usual pent-up energy and it made me so nervous I didn't answer him. Instead I just pressed play.

And the song that would become “Cocky” was let loose onto the world.

It was a song for Lily, but I still didn't know what she thought of it.

Tonight, I would find out.

There was an echoing sound of footsteps in the concrete hallway below the stage. Toad and Casper looked up from their tuning. Banks licked his thumb and dog-eared the battered paperback he had on his lap, then stretched his fingers out one by one. Talon restlessly tapped his knees, drumming out a staccato beat.

The stage manager poked her harried looking face into the door. "Five more minutes, guys." She rushed away before we could even thank her.

"All right, guys," I said, standing up and stretching. This was our first club appearance, the first of many to come. I felt like I should say something momentous, but the only thing that came to me was, "Let's blow the roof off this fucker."

"Well said." Banks smirked.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go, Juilliard. Tonight's gonna get your elitist ass laid like you wouldn't believe."

"Fuck yeah!" Toad pogoed in place twice before bounding down the hall ahead of us.

"Slow down!" Casper called. "No one's here to see your ugly bassist ass!" He clapped me hard on the back. "You ready?" he asked me, suddenly serious.

I clenched my fists. Everyone was here tonight to see me. Yeah, sure, maybe they were curious about my mom, but they paid to hear me sing, and that's what I meant to do.

And Liliana was here to see it.

I nodded. "Too fucking ready. Let's go."

The house music died down and the lights dimmed. From the wings, I looked out to see the whole club washed in blue light, my signature color. Talon nodded and headed out to the drum kit, to wild applause. I grinned and gave Casper a small shove forward, and he, Toad, and Banks filed out to grab their instruments.

I hung back, waiting, listening to the crowd. "Jax! Jax! Jax!" Fuck, that was my name they were screaming. I'd seen this scene a million times before, waiting in the wings during my mother's shows, hearing the adulation of the crowd as they screamed for her, but tonight, those cheers belonged to me.

Talon counted the beats and the heavy bass of “Cocky” thudded through the speakers. It sounded so much different live, so much better. The crowd hesitated, hanging on like one great beast sucking in its breath.

Then I walked on stage and they exploded.

I felt the beat move through me and the words came fast and true. Like I had been born for this. And dammit, I was fucking born for this.

"You got it right… babe…" I held the note a little bit longer as the guys upped the tempo, letting the strobe lights flicker around us before we crashed together as one into the song that had made my name. The song I wrote in private—for the only girl I had ever loved—now belonged to everyone.

I lifted my head and looked for her, but the lights blinded me, and I had no idea where she could be. I could only hope that she was out there, watching me, listening as I sang directly to her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Liliana

Remember how I said I was always late?

I never expected to fall asleep. But my sudden burst of clarity seemed to be all that I needed to finally be able to close my eyes and sleep away the jet-lag that had dogged me since I landed here.

When I woke up, I was relaxed and refreshed. And really fucking late for Jax's show.

I called the cab while I threw on the closest approximation to a club outfit I owned—a soft jersey tee that I slung over a bright neon purple tank top and a pair of jeans with sparkles on the ass. My version of dressing up. I debated over whether I should put on heels or not, but the only pair I had brought with me from New York were the ones I planned on wearing to the wedding, and knowing my luck, I'd break them beforehand. A pair of ballet flats would suffice.

Besides, Jax liked that I was small. I grinned at the mirror when I imagined how he'd show his appreciation.

It doesn't have to mean anything.

When the cab let me off, I thought he had got the address wrong. Jax said “club,” so I was expecting something small and intimate. Someplace where I could sit down with a glass of wine and watch him sing.

This place was the exact opposite of that.

The music that blared whenever the doors opened to the street was so loud that I froze in place.