Chapter 13 #2
It’d taken every ounce of fortitude he could summon to leave her just now, and that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t encourage something with a single mom of two kids that had nowhere to go, even now that he was no longer representing her. That didn’t change the equation for him.
When things calmed down for her, she’d find a great guy who wanted to be a husband to her and a father to her kids, a thought that made him feel slightly sick to his stomach.
Julian gripped the wheel tighter as he kept the car directed toward the practice, resisting every opportunity for a U-turn that would take him right back to her.
This, right here, this turmoil, was exactly why he avoided relationships.
Who needed to feel this way about something he could no more control than he could the changing tides or that the sun would rise and set each day?
Not him. He thrived on control and was determined to maintain it in every aspect of his life.
Maybe a night at Club Quantum to work out his frustrations would be in order to get things back on track.
That’d worked for him in the past any time he’d felt things getting out of hand.
Not that it happened very often, and it’d never been because he’d met someone he had trouble walking away from.
That’d happened only once before, when he and Aimee had broken up, and it’d nearly killed him.
“Think about how hard that sucked,” he said as he took Laurel Canyon Boulevard toward the Ventura Freeway.
“Remember what you said at the time, that you’d never put yourself through anything like that again.
” For weeks after they’d split up for good, he’d felt like he was underwater, struggling to breathe, sleep, eat and function.
That was the only semester he hadn’t made the Dean’s List at USC.
He’d been a total wreck, and in the ensuing years, he’d done everything in his power to keep from ever again finding himself in that hellish mental state.
After three times in the presence of Isla Santana, he somehow understood that she posed the same kind of threat to his peace of mind that Aimee once had.
Spending more time with her wouldn’t make anything easier, so if he knew that and understood the stakes with her being his close friend’s precious younger sister, why then did he have to stay in the right lane to avoid the overwhelming desire to make that U-turn?
The band had a three-day engagement next weekend at the world-famous Whisky A Go Go on Sunset Boulevard, which was the most exciting thing to ever happen to any of them.
The Whisky was a legendary club that dated back to the 1960s, having hosted luminaries such as The Byrds, The Doors, Motley Crüe, Janis Joplin and Led Zeppelin.
Booking a gig there was one of the pinnacles for anyone in the LA music scene, and thanks to Troy’s relentless efforts, they’d finally gotten in.
That was another reason why Julian couldn’t make that U-turn.
The band was counting on him to be at their second-to-last practice before they hit the big time.
For the others in the band, especially Vixen, Stix and Troy, the Whisky gig could be a gateway to bigger and better things.
Julian worried about the band taking off and him having to bow out due to his day job.
Denny had the same concerns, since he had a business to run and teenagers to finish raising and couldn’t tour with the band.
Julian had made his choice years ago when he’d chosen the college-law school path over the music, and he’d never had regrets about that. And while he hoped for bigger and better things for the band, he and Denny were tied to LA in a way the others weren’t.
They practiced in a warehouse in Glendale that Julian paid for since the others couldn’t afford to contribute. When he pulled up next to Denny’s truck, he realized he was the last to arrive.
With his stomach still in knots over the tense scene at Isla’s, he grabbed the bag containing a change of clothes from the back seat and went inside to find Denny waiting for him.
“What the hell, man? You pawned my sister off on your brother? Isn’t he fresh out of law school?”
“That’s not what happened. He’s four years out of law school and an excellent attorney.”
“I asked you to handle this for me, not your brother.”
“Jackson has more time to devote to her case. We’re still doing it pro bono, so don’t worry about that.”
“I don’t give a shit about the money. I care about Isla and her kids getting the best-possible attorney. That’s why I wanted you. Supposedly, you’re the best.”
“I’m Jackson’s boss and mentor. She’s in very good hands. I promise.”
“Why do I feel like there’s something else going on here that you’re not telling me?”
“There’s nothing going on, and it’s going to stay that way. Don’t worry.”
When Julian started to turn away, Denny grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.
“What the fuck does that mean? ‘Nothing going on, and it’s going to stay that way’?”
Julian pulled his arm free. “Just what I said.”
“What was going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Can we practice, boys?” Stix asked from the stage, where their equipment lived between gigs.
“Let’s do it,” Julian said as he walked away from Denny, certain their conversation was finished only for now since he’d been stupid enough to use those particular words.
Julian went into the cramped bathroom and changed out of his suit into faded jeans, a Foghat T-shirt and a flannel, because it was always freezing in there, especially in January.
He pulled on fingerless knit gloves and shoved his feet into a pair of black Vans that were almost as old as the jeans.
A Dodger’s ball cap worn backward was the finishing touch to keep hair that needed to be cut out of his face.
Before he joined the others, he took a second to get his head together. It was ridiculous to feel so unsettled after seeing someone exactly three times. Not to mention he was fighting with Denny, one of his oldest friends. They’d hardly ever had a cross word between them until now.
When he thought of Isla and the hurt expression on her sweet face, he wanted to howl at knowing he’d done that to her when she was already hurting.
“Are you coming, Julian?” Troy said from outside the bathroom door. “We got shit to do.”
“Yeah,” he said, exhaling a deep breath that did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him. “I’m coming.”