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“Impressive. I have about four-grand in the bank in savings. My watch is a swatch. Probably not really worth anything.” I dragged the sleeve of my sweater down over the poor unimpressive thing lest it get performance anxiety. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, last time I OD’ed, Dave made it clear. Get clean or I’m out. Out of the band, out of his life. He’d had enough, they all had.” He stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa, fingers kneading at the leather. It might look the pose of a man relaxed, but the reality was worlds away.

I’d gathered this from what had been said in Coeur d’Alene, but still, it was hard to hear. Those guys were his whole world, they meant everything to him. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt. No matter what he’d done, and I know he’d done a lot, I accepted that. It didn’t change the facts. His mother had hurt him and left him, his father had failed him, his brother and best friends had threatened to throw him out of the band. And now I’d been talking about leaving. Whatever our relationship, for several months now I’d been a staple part of his life, one he apparently liked in his own way.

My wanting to leave was bound to get a reaction.

“So I got clean,” he said. “Cut ties with everyone in LA., anyone who had anything to do with before. I came up here and started over. They’ve all been real supportive, my brother, the band. And I understand why they’d be willing to turn their backs on me, I do. Can’t say I don’t get resentful now and then, but I’m the one that pushed them to it.”

“Jimmy—”

“Just listen.” His cold hard eyes never left my face. “You leave, I’m not going to fall apart and start using again. Know that. I’m not trying to blackmail you here, I’m just making something clear. The guys probably were right last night about you being my only friend apart from them. We don’t always get along, but still, you feel like a friend.”

Both of his hands moved from bullying the back of the couch to holding back his hair. He gave the dark strands a sharp tug. “You’re a friend I just happen to pay to hang around, which is incredibly fucking pathetic and messed up, but there you have it.”

“I can still be your friend. I would like to still be your friend.”

Another sharp tug. “It won’t be the same.”

My mouth opened but I didn’t know what to say. He was right, it wouldn’t be the same. No more seeing him and talking to him every day, hanging out with him nearly every night. This part of my life, the time spent with him, would become a memory. The sadness inside me felt huge, overwhelming. I couldn’t possibly contain it. Much more of this and I’d explode, decorating his pristine minimalist living room in messy emotional Lena.

Man, he’d be pissed.

My stupid tongue lay still for the longest time. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” he snapped. “No.”

“Hey,” I growled warningly. “Watch it.”

He turned his face away, his jaw shifting restlessly.

Stuff happened on screen, none of it mattered.

“Lena, the point I’m trying to make is, the list is important. And it won’t work if you’re not committed to making it work. So don’t talk to me about us still being friends if you go, okay? Just … commit.”

I took a deep breath, studying his fierce features. Everything in life was so damn complicated, so confusing when it came to the heart. I don’t know when that happened exactly, probably sometime during the early teenage years when boys overtook my interest in ponies and glitter.

Resented the hell out of it some days.

“Fine, I’m committed,” I said, the only answer I could give.

“Fine.” He relaxed back, crossing his arms over his chest, satisfied apparently. But I already knew, the list wasn’t working.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Jimmy leaned against the bottom of the balustrade watching me descend. He wore a black suit and white shirt, very classy, very expensive. I bet it cost more than I made in a month. The man was such a show pony, one that I just so happened to be hormonally susceptible to. Blame it all on my girl bits, sure why not?

“Yes, this is what I’m wearing,” I said. “Why?”

“No reason.”

First chance I had, I was writing to Santa and asking for the ability to read people’s minds this Christmas. Or just one mind—Jimmy’s. Though I doubt I’d like what I found in there. “What’s wrong with this?”

He took in my frilly navy-and-white polka-dotted blouse, black leggings, and boots. “Nothing. Just … interesting choice.”

“I like this choice.”

“Sure, it’s real nice. Just thought you might dress up more.”

“We’re only going out to dinner downtown. It’s meant to be relaxed.” I straightened my glasses. Black rims this time, fuck him, I’d even accessorized right. Plus, I’d painstakingly applied my make-up and straightened my brown hair. Long and thick, it was my one true pride and joy. But Jimmy seemed utterly unimpressed, Little wonder I had trouble believing his scant compliments when the very next day he looked down his nose at me.

“And you look relaxed.” His car keys swung from a finger.

“Oh, shut up. Where are you off to?” I asked. “Thought you said you were staying in tonight.”

“I’m driving you,” he said. “Told Benny we’d meet him at the restaurant.”

“What? Why?”

“No need for him to pick you up when I’m heading that way.” He took my red coat, holding it open for me to slip into. Typical of the dichotomy in his behavior. He boggled my mind, insulting me one minute, then behaving the perfect yesteryear gentleman the next.

“Thanks,” I said. “You’re going to David and Ev’s?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well, that’s good you’ll have some company.”

He nodded and led the way downstairs to the garage. The new, nearly finished, studio sat at the front of the building, the big open middle area cluttered with exercise gear and musical instruments. At the back lay the garage with Jimmy’s two cars. The chrome on the black 1971 Plymouth Barracuda gleamed in the low light. I’d always wanted to steal the keys from Jimmy and go for a spin. But as always, he headed for the latest model Mercedes. So sensible this time of year.

We drove in silence all the way there, a soft rain falling. Instead of pulling up out front of the restaurant, he drove around the corner and parked in the first available spot.

“You’re not just dropping me off?” I asked, reaching for my umbrella.

“I’ll see you in. Say hi to Ben.”

“All right.”

We huddled together, Jimmy’s arm loosely around my back and his hand over mine, helping to hold the umbrella steady in the strong winds. The restaurant specialized in Asian French fusion cuisine and was rather fancy. Lots of carved wooden chairs and tables, with swathes of red silk on the walls. An antique mirror showed off my now damp frizzy hair to perfection. Oh well, I’d tried. Jimmy’s hipster up-do still looked perfect, of course. I doubt Mother Nature would dare mess with him even at her bravest. She’d put so much effort into getting him right, after all.

At a corner table, Ben stood and waved. Strangely enough, his smile only grew at the sight of his bandmate beside me. I nodded to the gorgeous tattooed blonde girl on the front desk and made my way through the maze of customers chowing down. There were no evening gowns in evidence, I was dressed fine.

“Hey, Jim. Didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Big Ben grinned down at me. “Lena, you look fantastic.”

“Why, thank you, Ben,” I said. “You look very lovely yourself.”

He bent down obviously intending to kiss my cheek. And then he bent down some more while I craned my neck and went up on tippy toes (it’s important to be helpful). Besides my being a little under average height, the guy just was that damn tall.

“Good to see you, Ben.” Jimmy’s hand shot into the rapidly dwindling space between Ben and me, knocking me off balance. Before I could stumble, Jimmy grabbed my elbow, holding me steady.

“Yeah, Jim.” Ben gave his hand a hearty shake. “You too.”

“He’s just dropping me off and saying hi,” I said. “Which he’s now done.”

“Actually, I’ve got time for a drink.” Jimmy raised a hand and a waiter hurried over. “Bottle of Coke for me and a gin and tonic for her. Thanks.”

The waiter nodded and rushed off. A bottle of Bud already sat on the table in front of Ben.

I gave Jimmy a look as I sat. It was not a happy one.

“What? You didn’t want that?” Without waiting for an answer, he dragged over an unoccupied chair from a nearby table. Not bothering to turn it to face ours, he sat on it back to front. His arms rested along the high back. The man looked ready for a fucking photo shoot. This way he had about him, a natural grace, annoyed the living shit out of me. If only he’d be more like us little people, clumsy and inept. But no. “I know that’s what you drink sometimes, Lena,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Water would have been fine.” I smoothed the frown off my face with some effort. “How did you even know what I drink? I haven’t drunk in front of you. Not ever.”

What Jimmy was going through, beating his addictions, was hard enough without me being so thoughtless. Plus, there was respect, support, solidarity, things like that to consider.

“Dave and Ev’s second wedding,” he said. The pair had decided to tie the knot again for their six month anniversary. A very fancy do, much as you’d imagine. I’d been working for Jimmy a month or so then.

“I was talking to Ben out on the balcony for an hour or so, you were inside,” he said. “I guess the waiter came over, cause a while later I saw you nursing a gin and tonic. It was gone by the time I came back in.”

“How did you even notice, or remember?” I asked. “I don’t know if I should be touched or worried.”

“Don’t be anything.” He gave me the trademark jutting of the chin. “My name is Jimmy Ferris and I’m an alcoholic. I know what Ben drinks. I know what you drink. I don’t even know what the nine people sitting on the three tables around us look like. But I could tell you what every one of them is drinking.”

“The hell you can,” said Ben.

Jimmy smiled darkly and sat up in his seat, moving his face close to Ben’s to show he didn’t need to look around. “The table of girls to my left. Two tequila sunrises and one Long Island Iced Tea. And the poor sap with the plain OJ, guess she’s the designated driver. The couple behind me is easy—the bottle’s still sitting in front of them. Porters.”

“The challenge is the gents to my right—one of them is knocking back a lager, so that’s simple enough. But the other two? Spirits glasses. Amber liquid, but not straight. No fizz. No ice. The clue, little children, is the tall glasses of water. They’re proper drinkers, just enough of a splash of water to bring out the taste in their scotch. Since I know from past experience the top shelf here finishes somewhere in the attic. I’m guessing Blue Label Johnnie Walker.” He shrugged. “Unless they’re single-malt aficionados in which case I have no fucking clue.”

“Holy crap, man,” said Ben, “You should be on TV.”

“I am on the TV, you chump.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come in,” I said. “You used to drink here. This place is a trigger for you.”

He scoffed and spread his arms wide. “This whole world is a trigger for me.”

“Jimmy, I’m serious. You should go.”

“Not just yet.”

“He doesn’t trust me to behave with you,” said Ben, sliding his cell onto the table.

I scowled. “That’s ridiculous.”

Jimmy just gave me a cool glance. “I love Ben like a brother, but I’ve known him a hell of a long time. No offense, right Ben?”

“None at all.” Something pinged on Ben’s cell and he slid a finger across the screen, bending closer to read the message.

Calm as can be, Jimmy reached over and smacked the back of his head like he was some recalcitrant child. “Don’t be so fucking rude. You’re out with Lena, put it away.”

“Waiting for news on something, get out of my face.” Ben took a swig of his beer and winked at me. “So, Lena. What should we talk about?”

“Christ,” Jimmy groaned. “You’re going to make her do all the work? Really?”

Kill me now.

“Seen any good movies lately?” Ben asked without missing a beat.

“Ah, yes. We watched
Thelma and Louise
last night. I’d seen it before, but it’s always great.”

“You and Jimmy watched it together?”

I nodded. “Yeah, we often watch TV at night time. Have you ever seen it?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It doesn’t end happily,” said Jimmy. “I can tell you that much.”

“Depends on your perspective,” I countered with a smile.

The waiter delivered our drinks. His eyes widened at the sight of Jimmy, and then he did a double take of Ben. To his credit, he didn’t make an issue out of who they were. I ordered a plain soda water and slid the gin to the side.

“You look smooth, Jim. Wish I’d thought to wear a suit.” Ben had worn a red sweater and jeans. It suited him. God bless a scruffy man in a pair of fitted blue jeans. Yum. Jimmy with his suits and smooth ways had never been my type. This attraction to him basically went against the very laws of nature. I could beat it, I just had to try.

I shuffled forward in my seat, determined to renew my efforts with my date. Who knew, maybe Ben and I would hit it off. For certain, as a couple, we made much more sense.

“You should have thought to get her flowers too,” said Jimmy. “That would have been a good thing to do.”

Ben smacked his forehead. “You’re right. I should have.”

“You shouldn’t have. It’s fine.” I gave Jimmy a warning look. Red lights and sirens, danger ahead.

Of course, he ignored it. “Send some to the house tomorrow.”

“You got it, Jim.” The cell at Ben’s elbow pinged again and he gave it surreptitious look. “Sorry, Lena. I just need to reply to this.”

“Man—” Jimmy reached out again, but I caught his wrist before he could strike.

“That’s fine, Ben,” I said. “Take your time.”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “Who is it, Benny?”

“No one.” His finger got busy tapping against the screen.

“And this no one is more important than being polite to Lena, I take it?”

My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. “Shouldn’t you be heading to David and Ev’s? We don’t want to hold you up.”