See Her (Turn it Up #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

JACK

T he SUV pulls up to where all the buses are parked outside the arena. On a mission, I get out and slam the door, trudging to the bus I’ve been living on for the last two weeks.I climb on and walk a line straight to the back.

Not two hours ago, I was happier than any man on the planet. Sure, Mayzie and I were struggling with this new life on the road while being newlyweds, but we were trying. We were working on it together, and didn’t need anyone, especially not one of my band mates , stepping in and stirring shit up.

I hit the jackpot, as the person I’m looking for is in the back lounge area, and he’s alone.

The asshole rhythm guitarist I’ve called my friend for the last ten years is reclined back on the window seat, one leg in front of him with his other foot on the floor.I swipe up the remote to the flat screen and turn off whatever game he’s watching before hurling it in the corner where it cracks into a mess of plastic and batteries. Whipping around, I drop down into one of the chairs across from him. His eyes widen briefly in protest at my brash movements, but he reels it in when he gets a look at my face. He puts his other foot on the floor and leans forward slightly, gearing up for what he knows is coming.

Having a temper is something I’ve never been known for, but this asshole seems to have uncovered it when he chose to fuck with the love of my life.

I don’t meet his eyes as I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and run a hand through my hair, leaving my fingers threaded in the strands as I stare at the floor.

“What the fuck did you say to her, man?” My voice is an ominous growl that even I don’t recognize, as I stare at the beige carpet of the bus.

My question is met with a heavy sigh, and I don’t care for the obvious hint of exasperation I hear in it. I’m not the asshole here.

I can just make out the shake of his head in my peripheral while he tries to formulate a response that’s as evasive as I predicted. “Jack… come on, man…” is all he has the balls to say, and I feel my anger rev a few thousand more RPMs. It’s both arrogant and cowardly as he avoids actually communicating, just dropping a few vague words instead, hoping I’ll pick it up. It pisses me off, especially when he knows, plain as day, what he did.

I shake my head before I snap my gaze up to meet his face, and the fucker doesn’t even have the balls to do the same. “Don’t fucking play games!” I snap, loud enough to make him jolt. I have his attention; his eyes finally meeting the seething look I’m giving him as I raise my head. I’m holding myself back as if my anger is one of the hounds of hell. I rise to my feet and take a step forward to tower over him. It’s a cheap, Neanderthal move, but here we are. “Now I’ll ask you again, you sorry excuse for a friend.” The words rumble from deep down in my chest.“I want you to tell me what the fuck you said to my wife that put her on a flight back home.”