Prologue #3
So did Jag’s chick, to him.
“We gotta go, babe,” her
dude said.
She spared him another glance and then to Jag, “We have to
meet a friend, but you want to hook up later?”
Her dude made a noise.
Jag ignored it and smiled at her.
“There’s a band coming on that’s rad,” she told Jag. “You gotta see them play.”
“We’re in,” Jagger decided.
His chick made a noise.
“Okay, four o’clock? Right here?” she suggested.
“We’ll be here,” he replied.
She smiled huge, bopped forward, and gave him a hug.
It was the first time they’d touched.
She felt good.
She smelled good.
He pulled his hand from his chick’s to wrap his arm around
her waist.
“Four,” he whispered in her ear, giving her waist a squeeze,
and feeling really good that they were finally going to get the opportunity to
get to know each other better.
“Yeah,” she replied, returning that squeeze to his
shoulders, and he knew she felt the same way. “Four.”
She bopped back, her dude claimed her, Jag’s chick claimed
him, and they were both tugged in opposite directions.
But they kept eye contact over their shoulders as they
walked away. And right before she disappeared from sight, she shot him a
devil’s horns, and the way she did was funny, cute and cool, so it was also
totally hot.
Needless to say, Jag’s chick was not happy about this even a
little bit.
So, needless to say, around four, she pitched one helluva fit and he had to deal with her ass.
This meant he missed the meeting with A. By the time he got
back to the area where they met, she was long gone.
And he was so pissed that she was, he broke shit off with
his chick.
He never saw that girl again.
As for A, it went so long, he thought he’d lost her forever.
And thinking that, he felt it.
Deep.
It was four years before Jag saw her again.
She was in a car.
He was on his bike.
They were stopped at a stoplight.
He looked over to her, she looked at him, and when she
recognized him past his shades and his longer hair and his Chaos Motorcycle
Club cut, she grinned.
He frowned.
Because there she was, driving down Broadway like years
hadn’t passed.
Where the fuck had she been?
No notes?
No sightings?
Nothing?
She made hand motions and he jerked up his chin because,
fuck yes, he was gonna follow her.
And he did.
To the parking lot at the Albertson’s by the Blue Bonnet.
They parked.
He swung off his bike.
She got out of her car.
Her hair was longer too, she was thinner, but somehow with
that, her ass was rounder, her tits bigger.
And she had more tats.
He gave himself seconds to take her in, and in all that, it
wasn’t lost on him that she was even fucking prettier.
And then, no other way to describe it, he bore down on her.
“What the fuck, A?” he growled when he was deep in her
space.
She pressed back to her car, but he just moved into the
opening she created when she did.
Through all this, she stared up at him, demanding, “What the
fuck, what, J?”
“You’ve been gone for fucking years,” he pointed out.
Her head ticked. “Yeah, I went to college out east.”
Well…
Shit.
But…
Still.
“And you didn’t leave me a goddamn note?”
She blinked.
“You were gone, like, every fuckin’ day for the last four
fuckin’ years so you couldn’t leave me a note?” he pushed it.
“Well, no, but mostly, yeah, ’cause
Dad had two kids in college, both out of state, we’re not rolling in it so I
couldn’t exactly fly home every weekend. And anyway, J, you stood me up at
Taste.”
And again.
Shit.
But still.
“My chick got up in my shit, I had to deal with her,” Jag
explained. “We were late, you were gone.”
“Yeah, well, my guy got up in mine too. He wasn’t a big fan
of me hugging on a hot dude in front of him. We had words. I told him he could
relax and deal or he could take a hike. He wasn’t relaxed, but he was ready to
deal, and then you didn’t show. After that, I had to put up with him being
smug, which was worse.”
Hang on a second.
She thought he was hot?
“So, that’s the only excuse you have?” she pressed. “That
your girl threw a tantrum and that’s why you stood me up?”
That was twice she’d used those words.
Stood her up.
But they’d both been on dates.
“A, I—” he began.
She didn’t let him get any further.
“So no, J, I didn’t leave you a note because you blew me off
and I’m not feeling this.” She motioned between them, but explained it anyway.
“I see you for the first time in years, and you get all up in my face because I
didn’t keep connected after you didn’t connect with me and I
was just off, living my life.”
“You gotta know I’d never leave
you hanging unless something came up I couldn’t avoid,” he told her.
“I don’t know that because that’s what you did. You left me
hanging.”
“My chick was throwing a hissy fit.”
She shrugged. “So walk away.”
“If you were throwing a hissy fit, would you want me to walk
away from you?”
“Brother, I would not ever throw a stupid hissy fit.”
She said these words like they were gospel and her face
registered nothing but disgust at not only the idea of chicks who did, but that
he’d think she would.
Jag found that interesting.
As well as promising.
But again…
Still.
“So you’re telling me it wasn’t a four-year long hissy fit
that was the reason I got no fuckin’ note after that happened?” he demanded.
That hit.
He knew it when she hit back.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not anything to each
other, J,” she informed him. “I don’t even know your name.”
He stepped back.
She watched him do it and winced.
But no fucking way.
Maybe he’d screwed up, and then she’d screwed up.
But she knew that went too far.
“You’re right, we’re not,” he agreed. “Sorry to fuck up your
day.”
He headed to his bike.
She moved with him.
He was firing it up when he felt her hand over the leather
on his forearm.
He looked at her standing beside him.
“J, hang on a sec,” she requested.
“Do your thing, A, live your life,” he threw her words back
at her. Then he finished it. “Hope it’s a good one. Later.”
With that, he opened up his bike and glided away.
Jagger lost track of how many times he saw her after
that.
At concerts, mostly.
Also at some bars.
Couple of times, out to eat.
Even at the mall once.
She’d been with guys.
He’d been with girls.
She’d been with friends.
Ditto with him.
Also alone.
She kept her distance.
He did too.
Eye contact and then avoidance.
Through all this, over the years, even though he was born
there and he knew a lot of people and there was more than a rare occasion he’d
run into one of them, it was the first time he realized how small of a town
Denver was, even if it was a big city.
But it wasn’t lost on him they had the same taste in music,
food and social life.
It also wasn’t lost on him that was way cool and it way
fucking sucked because she was enjoying it, so was he, but never together.
He knew he should boss up, apologize for acting like an
asshole and getting in her shit after she got back from college.
That said, she was the one who lowered the hammer, so on one
of those occasions they were in each other’s space, she could have bossed up
too.
She didn’t.
And the longer she didn’t, he got to the point where he just
wouldn’t.
So he didn’t either.
In the end, it wasn’t about bossing up.
In the end, it was about the fact he was on his bike and he
saw some kid motoring down the sidewalk, totally being chased.
And seconds later, he saw it was A doing the chasing.
So yeah.
No hesitation.
He waded right into that.
Fuckin’ A.
In both ways he could mean that.