Untwisted (17 page)

Figured.

If that wasn’t enough, she’d been recognized by a pair of gawking teenagers as soon as she arrived at the zoo. Having fans come up to her was still a novelty and normally she loved talking to fellow music freaks, but when her eyes were grainy from trying not to cry and she had heartburn and felt icky from wandering around in the clothes she’d worn yesterday, she wasn’t all that sociable.

She’d posed for a picture with them and signed some stuff and they’d gone away happy, so obviously she hadn’t been too much of an ogre. But man, she hated feeling bitchy. Dealing with Molly right now probably wouldn’t help even her out, either.

Jazz turned and narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?” She swallowed the bitterness in her throat. Whether it was from the corn dog she’d eaten in record time or caused by Gray and Molly’s deception, she wasn’t sure. “Did he offer you extra hazard pay if you added some field work to your list of duties?”

Molly sighed and propped her fists on her hips. “I knew it. I figured you must’ve overheard either that or the whole kissing thing. Either one was—”

“Kissing who?” Jazz snapped the hairband off her wrist to do her hair up in a quick bun and stepped toward her sister. “If you mean what I think you mean, take off your jewelry. This shit’s going down now.”

“Damn, girl.” Molly laughed. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Growling, Jazz advanced another step.

“Ease up, pitbull. My lips did not touch his lips.”

“Did they touch any other part of his anatomy? Because, believe me, that won’t save you any broken bones.”

“No part of us kissed, I swear. He totally shut me down. Didn’t even notice my tits damn near hanging out of my top.” She glanced down at her breasts and sighed. “They’re good tits. Everyone says so.”

“Yeah, well, he’s played with the prototype model, so you’re out of luck, pal.”

Molly whistled. “The pregnancy thing is so working for you in that area. Not that I saw anything but magazine pictures of you before, but wow, impressive.”

“Thanks. I’m wearing a good bra.” Hearing herself, Jazz shook her head. It was a warm day and evidently she was already suffering the early signs of heatstroke. “Look, don’t change the subject. You came onto Gray? After taking his money to spend the day with me? I mean, seriously, am I that awful?”

“No.” Molly blew out a breath that fluttered her curls. “You’re amazing, and that’s why I hate you.”

As the carousel started up behind her again, Jazz sighed and tugged Molly over to a bench some distance away from the cheerful circus music. “You realize that makes no sense, right?”

“It makes plenty of sense.” Molly flopped at the end of the bench and stared at the revolving carousel horses with something akin to wistfulness, shocking the hell out of Jazz. She’d yet to see even the tiniest hint of nostalgia in her sister.

Jazz, on the other hand, still wore the first piece of jewelry Gray had given her—the guitar pick necklace from a vending machine currently around her neck—and had pressed in a book the corsage he’d bought her for a high school dance. Every note or card he’d ever sent her was tucked into the diary she’d kept as a teenager. She had all of her old yearbooks and even her band uniform from the short time she’d tried to participate in an organized school activity.

Then there were all the other ways she was a sentimental fool. Crying during Hallmark commercials was now a part of her daily routine. She lavished toys and treats on her guinea pig, Ratt, and the kitten she’d bought on a whim from a kid selling them in front of the grocery store. She’d also foisted the other two kittens on Lila and Harper, whether they wanted them or not. Already she was itching to decorate her baby’s nursery—though they hadn’t yet bought a house—and she wasn’t due until the fall. She was a sap, pure and simple.

Yet another way she and Molly were absolutely nothing alike.

“You remember riding the carousel?” Jazz asked, unable to help herself. She was firmly stuck in sap 101, endlessly pursuing kinship with other secret saps.

“Yeah. That’s how I knew to come here. I remember Mama letting us have two rides each when we begged.” Molly stared at the revolving brightly painted horses for another moment. “I bet you can’t wait to put Dylan on one of them.”

Jazz couldn’t hold back a smile. “Actually, I was already thinking about that. Wait, how do you know his name is Dylan?” Then she sighed. “Gray. Your new best friend. Of course.”

“Best friend? Yeah, right. The dude hates me, as he probably should. I’ve been nothing been nasty to him.” She swallowed hard and dragged her attention from the carousel to Jazz. “And to you.”

Jazz didn’t reply, just watched the horses go round and round while excited kids laughed and hollered and grinning moms and dads hovered nearby.

Someday soon that would be her and Gray. Fretting over their child’s first words and first steps, applauding him for reaching the smallest milestones. Cheering him on every day of their lives.

“This is the kind of place parents should bring their kids. Mama didn’t do enough of that stuff with us, even in the early days.” Molly lowered her head. “I always figured that’s why you wanted to leave.”

Jazz nearly lost her grip on her wallet. She fumbled it back into her lap, then stared open-mouthed at her sister. “Wanted to leave? Are you crazy?”

Molly didn’t look at her. “It’s okay. I already know.”

“Whatever you think you know, whatever she told you, it was a lie. I didn’t want to go anywhere. I was twelve when she shoved me into foster care. I wanted my damn mommy. I wanted my sister.” Jazz blinked back the tears that rushed into her eyes right on cue, but she didn’t have a hope of stemming the tide. She’d been struggling against them for way too long. “God, I love you, Mol. I thought of you as my baby. I used to push you around in my doll stroller when you were small enough, then I’d carry you on my back everywhere when you got bigger. You’d always yank out my earrings and I’d laugh even though it hurt.” She wiped at her tears. “Do you remember any of that? Please tell me you do.”

“I remember,” Molly whispered, gazing down at her hands. “I remember everything.”

“I never would’ve left you on my own. I hated being away from you. For the first year, I wrote you letters every week. I had to save my lunch money to afford stamps. But you never answered them.” Jazz rubbed furiously at her damp cheeks. “You were too little, but I thought maybe you’d send back a drawing or something once in a while. But nothing ever came. Ever. I kept sending them every month anyway, right through high school. By then you were old enough to write back—”

Molly swiveled to face her, her eyes wide. “She never gave me any letters. Not one. I swear to you. If she had, I would’ve answered every one. Even if all I could’ve managed in the beginning was Strawberry Shortcake stickers and I love you.”

“Looks like we were both screwed over by dear ol’ mom yet again.” Jazz started to say more then realized Molly was sniffling. Her mascara was running from tears. Real ones, not ones used to manipulate.

Jazz tried to speak and found she couldn’t. All she could do was reach out to grab Molly’s hands.

“You said love,” Molly said, her throat working. “You said you
love
me, not loved. Not past tense.”

“Of course I do. How could I not? You’re my baby sister. I loved you from the minute Mama told me she was pregnant with you. I had one of those
I’m the big sister
T-shirts that our grandma gave me and I wore it every day.” Jazz smiled through her tears. “I was so proud.”

Molly laughed then released her hands. Jazz tried to take it in stride, to remember that Molly was an independent sort and a few declarations, no matter how heartfelt, weren’t going to erase years of distance. Intellectually, that seemed reasonable. Emotionally, it hurt like hell.

She wanted her sister back, goddammit.

Before Jazz could figure out what to say next, Molly flung herself into Jazz’s arms, hugging her so hard that Jazz gasped. Molly immediately reared back and cupped her hand over her mouth. “Oh God, did I hurt you? Did I squash the kid?”

Jazz laughed. “No. You hurt my boob, not my belly. The kid’s fine.” She looked down at the slight rise under her maternity shirt. “Well, pissy about today’s breakfast of corn dogs, but other than that, perfectly healthy.”

“Corn dogs for breakfast? Seriously? See what happens when I take my eyes off you?”

Jazz went still as that beloved deep voice sent shockwaves over her skin. She glanced at Molly, who gave her an impish shrug. “Had to call and tell him when I found you. Figured I owed him that much since I drove you away.”

“You didn’t drive me away on your own. You both did,” Jazz said, lifting her voice though she still didn’t turn her head in Gray’s direction. She was no dummy. One look into those sexy gray eyes and she’d crumble like a day-old cookie. “How much did he offer to pay you to act like my sister for the day?”

Molly had the decency to seem chagrined. She ducked her head, her cheeks flaring pink. “Uh, we didn’t discuss an exact price.”

“Yeah, because I never intended to pay her a damn dime.”

Both Molly and Jazz shifted in Gray’s direction. He lifted a shoulder. “Sucks when you con a con artist, doesn’t it?”

Rather than getting angry, Molly shook her head and smiled. “Should’ve guessed you’d be a welcher.”

“I wasn’t welching. I know my girl. Anyone who spends five hours in her presence falls in love with her. I figured if you had a whole day to get to know her, you’d probably end up offering to pay
me
in gratitude.” He shrugged and gestured toward their linked hands. Jazz wasn’t even aware of Molly reaching for hers again, but she must’ve. “Was I right or was I right?”

Jazz set her chin. “You expect me to believe you made a deal to pay her that you never thought you’d have to pay because she’d decide she wanted to be my sister again, all on her own.”

“Yes.” He faced her squarely. “I knew all you two needed was time together, and the promise of paying her was enough to get her in your sphere for more than ten minutes. She wanted us gone as soon as we got to her apartment, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I did notice. Talk about a mixed-up signal. Come see me, then turn around and leave.”

“Because it all came flooding back when we were face-to-face. How you used to sing to me and play your guitar and write these goofy songs about playing in the mud.” Molly sniffled and lowered her gaze to their joined hands. “I couldn’t look you in the eye and try to become part of your life for anything but genuine reasons. And if I couldn’t get money out of you, I needed you gone.”

“You need cash that badly?” Jazz asked gently. Amazing how a few minutes of talking things out had smudged away the worst of the hurt. Now she was back in her natural protector mode.

“Get a job,” Gray suggested.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him. They’d so be having a conversation later.

“I have a job. I’m in a band. Didn’t you see my guitar? It’s in your damn trunk.”

He crossed his arms and lifted a brow. “Yeah, well, I’m in a band too, so I know how shitty they usually pay. I meant a real job with an actual income. Something you earn for yourself rather than relying on whichever guy strolls through the door promising you the world and delivering nothing.”

Jazz bolted to her feet. “Gray—”

“No, don’t.” Molly grabbed her hand. “He’s right.”

“He is?”

“I am?” Gray cleared his throat. “I mean, of course I am.”

Jazz couldn’t help grinning at the jerk. She also couldn’t help loving him even more for trying to give her a day with her sister, even if his methods were all wrong. “What is this, you trying your daddy training wheels out?”

“He’s right,” Molly said again, tightening her hold on Jazz’s hand. “I tend to trust the wrong guys. I…well, I guess I shouldn’t be trusting any guys right now, period. They only want one thing.”

“Especially don’t trust guys in bands,” Gray added. “They’re fuc—freaking horndogs.”

“Exhibit A,” Jazz agreed solemnly, kicking her foot in his direction.

“Smart ass.”

Jazz glanced at Molly and gave into the urge to stroke her silky curls back from her face. She’d always been beautiful and had only become more so with age. “You should focus on school right now, and yes, a part-time job would be good. The boy thing can wait.”

“Um, I’m not exactly in school at the current time.” Molly bit her lip. “I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re done? It’s not the end of the school year yet. You shouldn’t be graduating until next year.”

“I dropped out.”

“What? Why?”

“Sit down,” Gray said, nudging her back on the bench without waiting for her opinion on his directive. “You’re all flushed. It’s too hot out here to raise your blood pressure.”

“It’s not hot, and I’m not flushed, and my blood pressure is fine. Mol, why aren’t you in school?” she demanded.

“I dropped out after Mama split last year. School is so fucking lame.”

Jazz sighed and shook her head. “Guess I found one way that we’re alike after all. It’s not a good thing to have in common. I hated school too. Skipped all the time.”

“Really?” Molly’s baby blue eyes lit up. “And you turned out fine. See, school isn’t even necessary. It’s just a big waste of time.”

“I’d like to point out that she just swore in front of Dylan and you said nothing. I detect bias.”

Jazz ignored him. “I turned out fine because I ended up taking college classes and trying again even when I didn’t want to. School is important for your future. You can’t just assume the band thing will work out. The odds aren’t in your favor. They aren’t in
anyone’s
favor.”

“You did okay. Both of you did,” she said, shifting her head to include Gray. “With an amazing example like yours, why wouldn’t I think I could make it too?”

“Con. Artist,” Gray said under his breath. “A good one, I’ll give you that.”

“You could practice with us now and then, if you wanted. Get a feel for how a working band operates. Maybe come to a show or two. If you wanted,” Jazz said again, hating how tremulous she sounded.

“Really?” She glanced from her to Gray, her cheeks pink with excitement. “That’d be amazing. You’re cool with it too?” she asked Gray.