Jet

“I’m getting drunk.” Tilting my head back, I look for the stars between the clouds. Hannah, who’s sitting on a lawn chair next to me, laughs loud enough to get everyone’s attention, causing me to laugh. Rolling my head to the side, I say, “You’re getting drunk, too.”

“I already am.” Her eyes are glazing over. Her hands are not covert like she insisted we be this morning. Instead, she’s been rubbing the top of my leg, her fingers occasionally dipping between my thighs, getting precariously close to touching a part of me that I won’t be able to disguise much longer behind this guitar.

The conversation picks back up around the fire we built to keep us warm this chilly March night. It’s nothing compared to the fire pit in Ojai, but it’s served us well many times before.

Alfie went to bed hours ago, and we have each checked on him several times since.

Hannah invited her friend, Dave, over. I’ve heard a little about him, and he seems nice enough. Plays guitar, which is cool. Friendly and fits in with the group without handholding from Hannah.

She chatted with him for a bit early on, but when we pulled out our guitars, he showed his talent. He definitely knows his way around the strings. “Dave, why aren’t you in a band?” I ask.

“Bad past and haven’t found the right band. You guys needing a new guy?”

Tulsa laughs. “We have more guitarists than we know what to do with.”

“I’ve seen you guys play a few times. You’re good.”

Johnny says, “They’re great. It’s time the rest of the world hears The Crow Brothers’ music.”

They start playing a Stevie Ray Vaughn song, and I glance at Hannah. She was starstruck when she first met the guys, but fuck, so was I. A few hours later, her eyes have been stuck on me as if the other guys don’t even exist. I fucking love it. It turns me on to see how much she wants me; her lustful thoughts are felt through the way she touches me with intention and how deep blue her eyes can be.

Johnny transitions from Vaughn to Van Halen, attempting Eddie’s infamous “Eruption” solo. When he starts laughing, he stops playing and pretends to toss his guitar into the fire. “Fuck. I’m too drunk for this.”

I say, “I think we’ve all tried it. Eddie’s a genius. I don’t feel worthy to carry his equipment, much less attempt that solo.”

Tulsa stands and gives it a shot.

Laughing, Tommy says, “That hurts my Van Halen loving heart, man. Stop torturing that song.”

With Dave here tonight, five guitarists are jamming. It’s fucking awesome to shoot the shit and make music with these guys. But this guy earns full respect when he starts the solo and almost makes it to the end before he looks up and realizes we were gawking at him. He shifts in his chair and says, “I’ve practiced a few times.”

I reach my hand forward. We shake, and I say, “That was awesome.”

“Thanks.”

Hannah playfully jabs him. “You should be in a band again. You’re too good not to play.”

“I play. I just don’t get paid.”

Johnny says, “You should get paid. You’re really good. If you’re open to gigs or studio opportunities, I’ll let you know if I hear of anything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I heard all I need. I’m happy to recommend you.”

“Thanks, man. I think you just made my life.”

“I haven’t done anything yet, but if I can I will.”

Rivers gives it a go before I mutilate it. We’re all blaming the beer, having too good of a time to care if we nail it or not.

When everyone’s distracted by another song, I lean over to whisper in Hannah’s ear. “What you failed to see is that I crave your sharp edges and chipped corners. I’ll be the glue for you, but I like you how you are.”

A warm caressing hand soothes my cold cheek. “Broken?”

“You’ve never been broken to me.”

“Jet?” It’s not sweet Hannah’s voice, but another person saying my name.

Shit. I know before I even turn back to find out. Looking over Hannah’s head, Marcy is just a few feet away—hands twisting together nervously. Seeing her is sobering. I stand. “What are you doing here?”

The silence of the group is palpable. I want to look at Hannah, to check on her, knowing this has ruined a good night. I don’t, though. I go to Marcy to lead her back out the way she came in through the side gate. But I stop when a guy comes around the corner. What the fuck?

He’s all smarmy smile and too skinny to hold the joint I can smell he’s been smoking. “Fuck, man. You’re hard to track down. Jet Crow. Fuck, you’re a badass.”

I may have had some drinks, but every red flag is flying high over this guy. “Who are you?”

“Oh, damn. Let me introduce myself. Hunter Hix.” He drags his hand down the front of dirty pants before holding it out to me.

There’s no way in fuck I’m touching him unless it’s to throw him out. I look at Marcy. “Did you bring him here?”

“I’m sorry, he—”

“This is my home.”

Rivers comes up behind me. “Why don’t I walk you out? We’ll go back this way.”

Hunter shrugs away from my brother. “I’m not doing any harm. Just talking to another musician, an artiste, like myself.” Looking past me, he acts like he didn’t know Johnny Outlaw would be here. He acts like Marcy didn’t sell my information to him to put on this act like he’s our best friend and not here to see their band.

But when I see him staring, I follow his gaze. It’s not on Johnny like I suspected. It’s on Hannah, who’s frozen in horror with her hand over her mouth and her eyes as wide as the night sky. I’ve seen Hannah wary, I’ve seen her sad, but this? This is pure terror. Who the fuck is he, and what did he do to her?

She begins to shake, so I look at my brother. “Tulsa.” I don’t need to say anything else to him. He heard the command, could see her distress. He grabs her hand and rushes her toward the back door. I push Hunter with my hands on his chest, backing him out of my yard. “Get the fuck out.”

Marcy’s hanging on my arm and crying. “I’m sorry. He made me. He made me.”

Hunter spits, “Get the fuck off me. You’re just as useless as that fucking bitch.”

I stop. “What did you just say?”

“The bitch likes it rough. Likes to be slapped, although I doubt you’d know about that. Frigid cunt.”

When my gaze shifts to Marcy, she tries to grab Hunter’s arm to pull him away from us. Before I can even move, he slaps her so hard across the face that she falls to the ground. “You’ll get more of that later.”

The fuck?

He grunts, “I didn’t get to meet Outlaw.”

Fuck him. Shoving him to the ground, I finally connect some dots. A musician. Hannah’s reaction. He hit her? Slapped her? I’m about to pummel him when my brothers yank me backward. “I’m going to fucking destroy you,” I yell, my voice booming. Anger courses through every muscle in my body, driving me forward to obliterate his punk ass.

I’m grabbed again and pulled backward. It’s not my brothers that keep me back.

It’s Hannah.

She runs in front of me and pushes her hands against my chest. “Jet, don’t. Please. He’s not worth it.”

Everyone surrounds me, but I never take my eyes off him. Hannah whispers, “Please don’t hit him. Think of Alfie—”

I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing and calm down.

Alfie.

Alfie.

Alfie.

When I look into her eyes, I see her secret. I can see how much she cares about me. I say, “He hurt you. He hit you.”

Hunter spits, “Pussy!”

She touches my cheek. “He can’t touch me now, but he can ruin everything for you.”

Marcy’s scream startles us. Her hands are over her mouth, and she crawls toward Hunter. He’s staring up and touching his nose before I realize what has happened.

Standing over him, Johnny cracks his knuckles. “Motherfuckin’ asshole. Get the fuck out of here before we call the cops.”

As Hunter struggles to get up, he shouts, “I’m calling the cops on you for assault. I’ll own that fucking Hollywood mansion of yours when I’m done suing you.”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” Johnny’s anger is palpable.

“I’ll get you for assault—”

“You’ll get him for nothing, Hunter.” Dave steps up out of the shadows. “We have more on you. Hannah barely survived what you did to her in Dallas.” What the fuck? I look at her, and I think it’s only her anger keeping her upright at the moment.

“You’ve got nothing on me, traitor.”

Hannah says, “He has his word, and I’ve got photos.”

“What the fuck does that matter?” Hunter stammers, wriggling his jaw back and forth from the punch.

“Let me fill you in, asshole,” says Tommy. “Scum like you who hit women eventually go down. You stepped onto private property, attacked the owner, smacked around your girl. Come near anyone here again, and you’ll be behind bars for a good decade or three. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Now.”

“Fuck you guys. I’m out of here.”

Tulsa shouts, “Stay a stranger.”

Hunter replies with a middle finger in the air just as they round the corner of the house and disappear.

When Johnny turns back to me, he says, “Welcome to the family.”

“And here I was going to welcome you to our brotherhood.”

“An honorary Crow Bro? Cool. I can dig it. Do I get a band shirt?” He knows how to lighten a mood.

Rivers chuckles. “I’ll make sure you get one.”

Everyone starts gathering their stuff, the party clearly over. I look at Hannah, and she says, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

I nod, watching her walk away. When Johnny pats me on the back, I say, “You didn’t have to hit him for me.”

“Sure, I did. He can’t touch me, but you and your son, he can.”

“Thank you.” We shake hands and bring it in for a bump. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He shakes his hand out. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a fight, and I’m glad it was for a worthy cause because Holliday is going to kick my ass.”

The thought of someone hurting Hannah—physically or emotionally—stirs my anger. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to restrain myself if I see him again.”

“Until the hearing is over, think of your son first. Don’t lose him because you lose control.”

“Wise advice.”

Patting me on the back, he laughs. “We’re taking off, but we’ll see you in LA.” Once we’re inside, we say goodbye to the guys, sending them on their way when an SUV arrives to pick them up.

My brothers hang back a bit on the porch. Leaning against the rail, Rivers asks, “Is she going to be okay?”

“Hannah’s strong.”

Tulsa asks, “How about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for having my back, little brother.”

“Always.”

Rivers says, “The car’s here.”

I walk them out, and we do our usual handshake and push off before I go back inside. When I shut the door, Hannah’s leaning against the kitchen bar. “Alfie’s still sound asleep. Thank goodness.”

“That is good.” I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to push her away by demanding something she doesn’t want to tell me. But it was going so well and I’m not ready to let that slip away. “How are you feeling?”

Her fingers tap on the bar with impatience, and she looks down as if time’s up. When her eyes find mine across the room, she says, “I was once crazy. I was the girl everyone loved to hang out with. But you know what happens to crazy girls?”

I move across the room, wanting to be close to her, but giving her the space she needs to vent, confess, or whatever she feels the need to do. “What?”

“They end up alone. Marcy. Me. We’re the same. She just hasn’t realized it yet. She won’t until she’s bleeding in an alley beaten by someone she trusted, by someone she loved.”

Tears she’s been restraining slide down her cheeks, revealing her pain. All this time, her silence has held in the hurt, her words a release that’s long been coming.

“Tell me what happened, Hannah.”

“Will you hate me if I tell you I’m not in the right place? I don’t want to be drinking. I don’t want to be drunk. It makes the memories worse.”

Covering her hands with mine, I stop the tapping beneath my embrace. “You don’t have to tell me tonight, but I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“I’m just me. If I’m good for you, that’s all I want to be.” And I’ll be here for you forever if you’ll let me.