Between a Rock and a Hard Place (31 page)

“What the fuck was that?” she blurted out.  “It sounded like something out of a bad soap opera.”

Her coolness and indifference in a tense, awkward situation brought the tiniest smile to Angel’s lips, but it quickly disappeared when he realized Jessi was still sitting at the table.

He thought Jessi would join him, but she remained stationed in the booth, sketching on her Tablet. A dull ache filled his chest and he let out a deep breath. She could have sat with him or next to Alyssa.  They could have shared each other’s company, but she chose solitude.

After a few minutes, Damien and Jimmy ventured out of their bunks and headed toward the lounge area.  Jimmy sat next to Angel, but Damien stopped to talk to Jessi.  Angel couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he assumed Damien was asking her if she was OK, since she was nodding her head while she answered him.

The faint strum of Tommy’s guitar filtered through the air from the back of the bus, but the noise of the TV prevented Angel from clearly hearing the masterpiece Tommy was working on.  The flimsy bedroom door wouldn’t have filtered much from the vantage point of Jimmy’s bunk, so he sought Jimmy’s opinion.  “How does the new guitar solo sound?”

Jimmy looked back toward the bedroom.  “That’s why I’m here, man.  He’s been playing
Enter Sandman
and
Nothing Else Matters
for the last half hour.”

Angel knew that when Tommy sat alone and played Metallica, something was bothering him, but nothing ever got in the way of writing music before.  “Did he play any guitar solos at all?”

Jimmy scratched his long sideburns.  “He only experimented with a few really short ones.  The rest of the time he’s been fucking around.”

Angel headed for the bedroom, and it wasn’t long before the familiar melody of
Enter Sandman
filled his ears.  He knocked on the door and opened it.  “Why are you playing Metallica?  Are you done with your guitar solo?”

“No.  I can’t concentrate and I don’t want anyone to hear me play them.  They’re not good.”

Angel huffed.  “Since when is Tommy Blade anything less than spectacular on the guitar?”

“Since today.”  Tommy stared at his fingers cradling the neck of his guitar, questioning their betrayal.  There was genuine fear in Tommy’s eyes, fear that he lost his star power, his gift, his blessing.

Angel went to him and rubbed his shoulders.  “Don’t worry, mi amor.  You just need to relax a little.  We’re working too hard.”

Tommy pressed his cheek to Angel’s hand and kissed it.  “Yeah, I know.  I’m not used to being under so much pressure.  It’s a lot to handle.”

Angel displayed a worried frown.  His tiff with Jessi wasn’t over, and it was about to add a shitload of pressure onto Tommy’s shoulders.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

After Angel left him to work on his piece, Tommy couldn’t do anything except stare at the strings of his Fender.  He swapped it for his Les Paul.  Maybe his affection for the instrument would bring new life into his fingertips, but it didn’t do anything except solidify the fact that he was tapped out.  He played the same steady melody of
Enter Sandman
, over and over until he was too tired to continue.  He put the guitar back on its stand.  The Les Paul stared back at him, wondering why he didn’t bring new music to life.  He had no answer.

Defeated, he walked to the front to the bus and sat with everyone else in the lounge area.  Jimmy was in the middle of a story and laughter punctuated a high point in the tale.  Tommy noted that Angel and Jessi appeared to be getting along better.  They were sitting next to one another, not touching, but in close proximity with only a slight hint of trouble on the surface.

They all quieted as soon as they saw him.

“Did you write a hit song, man?”  Jimmy asked.  “You were in there long enough.”

Tommy pressed his lips together and shook his head.  “I’ll figure it out.”  He could see the disappointment and the concern on their faces.  He had never faltered before.  Music came naturally.  This pause in creativity, lack of inspiration and ingenuity, was new to him and it raised a mass of doubt inside him.

He sat in solemn quietude without much participation in the conversation. Eventually, everyone went off to their bunks to get some rest before the bus pulled into Amsterdam and another day of sound checks and performances ensued.

Tommy hated the small cramped bed and missed the luxury of sleeping in the hotel.  He was already feeling crowded and claustrophobic sandwiched between Angel and Jessi, but he couldn’t push either one of them away.

He just wanted to rest and clear his head so he could come up with a fresh guitar solo.

Some of the stress finally started to dissipate, and the white noise of the expressway and the gentle rocking of the bus calmed him.

Jessi’s hand on his inner thigh pulled him out of semi-consciousness.  As absurd as it sounded, sex was the last thing he wanted.  He took her hand and moved it up to his chest.  Her finger circled his nipple.  Angel’s lips went to his neck and delivered soft kisses.  He stilled Jessi’s hand.  “I’m tired. I just want to nap before we get to the hotel.”

She got up on one elbow so she could look at him.  “Are you serious?  After everything, you’re pushing me away?”

“I’m not pushing you away, hon. I’m just too tired.”

Angel bolted upright at the waist.  “You mean the great Tommy Blade isn’t interested in having sex?”

Angel joked to lighten the tension, but Jessi was upset.  She buried her face in the pillow and gave Tommy her back.  He apologized with a soft stroke down her arm.  “Don’t be mad.  I’m exhausted, that’s all.”

Jessi turned toward him and snuggled into the pit of his shoulder.  She held onto him, tighter than usual, and he kissed the top of her head.  After a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were of Jessi and Angel’s deep, even breaths, blowing onto Tommy’s chest.

As tired as he was, Tommy couldn’t sleep.  Too many things weighed on his mind.  He lay awake and stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was happening to his life.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

At least they had been able to have breakfast and spend the morning together before the band went off to the studio in Amsterdam.  They even had time to take a short boat tour on the Emperor’s Canal.  It could have been so much more romantic if Jessi had settled things with Angel.  Instead, they were aloof with one another.

She was trying to let go of the festering resentment she had about the time Angel and Tommy spent together, but it kept gnawing at her.  She knew Angel’s feelings were hurt.  He was sensitive and had a soft caring heart.  It was one of the things she loved about him, which made her ambiguous feelings all the more confusing.  No one made her as conflicted as Angel. No one drew out the strong emotional highs and lows like Angel did.

She loved Tommy with all her heart.  There were never any other sordid feelings that challenged her love for him.  He meant everything to her, but Angel, she pressed her lips together and shook her head.  Her feelings for him were all over the place and ranged from love and intense desire to resentment and jealousy.

She hated that she was jealous of Angel. It was an ugly, vile emotion that was borne by circumstance, not by hard evidence.

Conflicting emotions aside, she loved Angel, and she wanted him to be part of her life and her marriage.

She leaned back on the couch in the hotel room.  Is this the way she was going to spend the rest of her life?  Segregated from Tommy and Angel while they spent all their free time working together and she did her own thing? She had more than enough to keep her occupied.  Too many things, in fact. She was supposed to be designing a new fall line, but she barely had time to sketch it on her Tablet.

There was no use dwelling on circumstances that she couldn’t change. She knew that she still needed to clear the air with Angel.  Time alone wasn’t exactly abundant and she hoped that the length of time it took for them to talk didn’t damage their relationship. She ran her hand through her hair.  This European tour wasn’t what she expected, and she hated it.

She scrolled through her Tablet at the half finished design she started yesterday.  She had so many ideas but they were all jumbled inside her head, lost in between worrying about the store back home, dealing with the inadequacies in her personal life and juggling her job for Falcon Records.

Before she had a chance to sketch anything, her cell phone rang.  It was Ella.  Usually when there was a problem at the boutique, Rachel, the store manager, called, so Jessi was expecting a pleasant call from her sister. She knew that wasn’t the case as soon as she heard the tone in Ella’s voice.  “What’s wrong now?”

“I don’t like what’s going on at the store,” Ella sad.  “Something doesn’t seem right with the new merchandise that was replenished on the shelves. Something looks wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it. Neither can Rachel.”

“Did you ask any of the dressmakers?”

“I tried but they gave me the brush off. They told me to talk to Martha, the head dressmaker. They said they’re following the design pattern. And Martha refuses to answer any of my questions.  She said you’re the boss, not me, and you put her in charge.”

“She won’t talk to Rachel either?  She’s the manager.”

“No. Martha’s very protective of her position. I think she’s afraid we’re trying to steal her job.”

Jessi was puzzled. Ella had a good eye for fashion. If something was amiss with the designs, she would spot it.  “Can you take a photo and send it to me.”