Page 104 of Dirty Like Brody
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’scrazy. You know that,right?”
“What’s crazy about it? The bandwantsyou.”
“And you’re okay with that? With me being a member of Dirty?” I just couldn’t see how that could ever work. Even if I wanted to join the band… I wasn’t good enough. Even if Brody and I could “work our shit out.” “You know I’m not strong enough,” I added. “On guitar, I mean. I’m not that good. You told them that,right?”
“You are good. And for the record, you’re the only one who doesn’t recognize it. With some work and devotion, you could begreat.”
“I don’tthink—”
“If you could see what we all see when you’re up there onstage, with the band… You can learn to be better on guitar, Jessa. But that chemistry? That vibe? You can’t learn that or manufacture it. You’ve been running from it for so long you don’t even know it anymore, but you have it. That thing Jesse has? You’ve got it too, in fucking spades. Why not embrace it instead of hiding from it? Just live the fuck out of it like yourbrotherdoes.”
“I’m confused. Are you telling me to get fucked, or are you telling me to jointheband?”
“I’m telling you if you were to commit, if you were to take it seriously and we could actually count on you for fucking once, you’d be amazing withDirty.”
I shook my head, because it wasridiculous.
I was never meant to beinDirty, like playing with them on tour and stuff. I was just a part of the bigger picture… a songwriter. A lyricist. I never wanted to be a rock star. That was an entirely different beast and it definitelywasn’tme.
“I mean… not that I don’t appreciate theoffer,but—”
“You belong in the band, Jessa. You always have.” He shook his head, studying me. “I guess it’s just a fucking shame you’ve neverwantedit.”
“I did want it,” I admitted, cautiously. “I always wanted to be a part of it. I mean, the music… the music is everything. I’ve always known that. And I know there’s a part of me that loves playing with them. It’s amazing when we get together. But performing? I can’t get onstage and do what they do. This show tonight was one thing. One acoustic song. Just a small bar in front of an unsuspecting crowd with zero expectations of me. But the shows Dirty plays on tour, arenas and stadiums filled with tens of thousands of people… that’s not my speed, Brody. I’m norockstar.”
He laughed in my face. “Not a rock star? You’re the walkingdefinitionof a rock star, Jessa. Talented as hell. Sexy as fuck. Mysterious. Gorgeous. Charismatic…” His eyes raked over me. “Did I mention sexyasfuck?”
“A couple oftimes.”
“Good. If it doesn’t bear repeating, you’re not a fucking rock star. And sweetheart, it bearsrepeating.”
I swallowed, but stood my ground as he gotclose.
“The fans willloveyou,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he knew it or not, but he was getting in my face; I resisted the urge to take another step back. “Jesse’s beautiful sister… the gifted, elusive songwriter who quits her modeling career to follow her true passion… what’s nottolove?”
Then I did take a step back. “Is that what this is? You’re looking for a chance to spin some hot new angle for the band’sanniversarytour?”
He moved into me, and the air charged between us; I felt that crackle of electricity, that overwhelming, frenetic thing that turned my stomach to a swarm of butterflies, and up close, felt like a magnetic pull. I literally wanted to slam rightintohim.
“Sweetheart, don’t tell me you can’t handle a stage. I’ve seen you conquer a catwalk with those mile-long legs of yours. I’ve seen you get lost in the music.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and his tongue swiped his bottom lip. “It’s inside you, Jessa. It’ssteamingoff you when you play. Youwantthis.”
Yeah… I was definitely starting to steam. Brody’s proximity was pretty much making the world evaporatearoundus.
“I’m not comfortable with it, Brody,” I managed. My back was to the bathroom wall—when did that happen? He had me cornered, instead of the other way around. “Standing up there on stage with a guitar,” I said, “while Zane sings my words… it makes me feel…naked.”
For some reason, that pissed him off. A lot. He sucked in an agitated breath. “You modeled practically naked,” he bit out. “What’s the fuckingdifference?”
“Thedifferenceis that was my body,” I said. “You’re asking me to baremysoul.”
He stared at me for what had to be a fullminute.
“Yeah. God forbid I ask you for anything.” He drew back, snapping the charge between us, leavingmecold.
“You’re wrong,youknow.”
