“but yeah, Jonas ordered it.”
The colour was back in Rielle’s cheeks. She let go of Jake’s neck and he lowered her feet to the floor. “Bastard!” she said, balling her fists.
Roley, How and Stu arrived on stage in time to hear Rielle’s exclamation, shock written on their faces. Stu immediately made his way to Ceedee, catching her in a hug and slapping Jeremy on the back. Rand stepped over shattered glass and walked through the tangle of metal, looking up at the place where it had all been suspended moments ago.
“I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” thundered Bodge, now holding a piece of cloth to his forehead. He rounded on Tim. “You should’ve seen that. You should never have let that happen.”
“Bodge, we missed it by minutes,” said Jake. Now he’d shaken the faith of his own crew. And minutes might as well have been miles given the damage done. “It’s my fault. I should’ve thought to check any of Jonas’s last minute instructions. I will now.”
“TLTL,” growled Bodge and Jake knew it was.
“Jake,” called Rand. He came over to drape his arm around Rielle’s shoulders. “Look at everything Jonas has put his fingers on. Everything.” He turned to Rielle, touched her neck. “You’re bleeding.”
“Let me take care of it,” said Jake. It was the least he could do. He took the first aid kit from Lizard’s outstretched hand. Just brilliant. First day on the job as stage manager, half the set collapses, my lead singer is hurt and my crew think I’m incompetent. His one overriding thought was to get Rielle backstage so when she carved him up, it was at least in private.
Rielle took the wad of gauze Jake offered and pressed it to her neck. She followed him backstage without protest. She was fine. She didn’t want a fuss made over it. Going backstage with Jake was better than having half the crew staring at her, wondering if she was going to crack, better than having Rand not look at her for the same reason. In the dressing room, Jake pulled out a chair for her and knelt in front of it.
“TLTL?” she asked.
“Too little, too late,” he said with a grimace. “Bodge is right. I should’ve checked everything.”
“Goddamn right you should have.” She dabbed at her neck and looked down at him. His lips were clamped shut, the expression in his eyes grim.
“Sharon will have a list of possible replacement stage managers for you later this afternoon.”
“So you’re just going to give up? Walk away from it?”
He narrowed his eyes, poured fresh water on another cloth to clean her wound. “I’m giving you the option like you wanted.”
“I’d prefer you had a backbone, Jake. I’d prefer you weren’t so weak. Didn’t have such a heart of straw.” She stood up and stepped around him. “But I guess that’s too much to ask.”
“Sit down.”
It wasn’t a request. He hadn’t moved off his knees but his tone made her pause—it was unguarded and hard. She sat, looked down at him, saw the tension in his jaw and the determination in his eyes.
“I said possible replacements. I didn’t say I was walking away. But if you’re about to fly off the handle and bounce me then you need a fall back first.”
“I’m not about to—”
“Shut up, Rielle. Let me see your neck. We can talk about what you’re going to do after we’ve made sure you’re not going to bleed to death.”
Cool, this was new. Jake showing his anger without being drug addled. She liked it. Enough to do what he asked. She removed her hand and turned her head so he could see where she was bleeding. He grunted in annoyance. “You’re got a bunch of nicks and scratches and one nasty cut.” His fingers went tentatively to the area around her tattoo. “It’s not deep but it’s bleeding still. Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
He held a wad of gauze against her neck. “It’s not nothing. You’re hurt and it’s my fault. It’s only luck it’s not much worse.”
“It’s okay Jake, I’m not hurt. I’ve had worse.”
“You could have been.” He pulled the cloth away and got to his feet, leaned over her, his fingers gentle, smoothing her hair away. Was it weird that it felt nice? She was bleeding onto her t-shirt—yeah it was weird to like the way he was all tense and serious and fussing over her.
“It’s a clean cut, no glass. Antiseptic is going to sting. I’m sorry.”
When he met her