Flirting With Disaster (Camelot 3)

Sean kept typing.

“I talked to a guy in Louisville who runs your fan club this morning,” Katie said. “He remembers that summer. He said you had a tour all planned out, and you and Ben had bought a van. It was all you could talk about. Then Paul came to one of your shows one night, and a couple of weeks later all of you disappeared, and you washed up in L.A. What I want to know is, why’d you cancel the tour?”

Judah looked out the window at the Iowa City skyline, such as it was. Bleak and uninviting in the weak light of this overcast February morning. “Paul.” After a moment, he shook his head, negating his own statem

ent. “Nah. It was me. I wanted to be famous, and I let Paul talk me into it. Worst decision I ever made.”

He looked beyond tired—weary in a tight-muscled, tension-headache sort of way. Haunted.

“But you got to be a musician.”

“It wasn’t fair to Ben,” Judah said, still not looking at her. “We had plans. He had a future … I was the only one who got what I wanted.” He sighed, turning her way at last. “I’m a real shit-heel, Kate. Not much of a friend. You could probably do better.”

“Was that supposed to be an apology?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For taking my bad mood out on you last night, and for insulting you when you were only trying to help me. Okay?”

She didn’t want to forgive him, but it had been a decent apology. He was getting better at it.

“Does this mean I’m un-fired?”

“Yes. Sorry about that, too.”

“You should quit drinking.”

“So Paul keeps telling me.”

Katie glanced at Sean. Something in his steady blue gaze helped shore up her confidence. Affirmed her.

He set his laptop down on the bed and crossed his arms, his attention shifting to Judah. “Did you c-call Ben?” he asked. “Did you tell him you would be here?”

“No,” Judah said. “He must have figured it out. Like you said, I’ve been playing all the places we were going to go that summer.”

“Is he the one threatening you?”

Judah shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

His mask of unconcern was so habitual, so practiced, she couldn’t see past it. Not unless that was what he wanted. This morning, it wasn’t. Yes, he was sorry, but he’d pulled away regardless.

“So what now?” she asked.

“The tour’s over. I played my songs, people liked them. Now I go home and record.”

“And the messages?”

“Give me a call when you figure it out.” Abruptly, he stood and moved toward the door, brushing his hand over her shoulder as he passed her. “Take care, Katie.”

Then he was gone.

Katie stared at the door for a few seconds before she turned to look at Sean. “What just happened?”

“I’m not sure.” He ditched the laptop on the side table and patted the bed beside him. “C-come here.”

Katie crawled over his legs to stretch out next to him, tucking her cheek into the space between his chin and his chest where it fit so nicely.