“I never have a problem stooping a little lower in order for a little payback,” Jen laughs as she and Campbell help each other out of the water. They both are beginning to shiver, but are still laughing at the entire situation, which if I must admit, is somewhat comical. My bandmates are certainly finding the scene entertaining.

“I would think for a politician’s daughter, you would never venture below your rank,” I joke as I peel off my button-down shirt and wring out the T-shirt underneath. “How about we both act civilized and we all go for drinks?”

The cessation of laughter draws my attention away from my shirt and when I look up I’m met with two serious expressions. Jen looks as though she is both stunned and pissed beyond belief. I wouldn’t think such a look would be possible, yet Jen is pulling it off like a pro. I look to Campbell for a little assistance on what I did or said which was so wrong, but she only offers a look of disappointment.

“What? What did I say?” I ask confused. I thought we were having a good time, messing around, but I guess I fucked the moment up.

“Nothing, it’s fine. Cam and I have a get-together with the girls, so I’ll pass on the drink,” she quickly says, turning her back to me to start gathering her bags of equipment. Fuck. She’s not pissed, I’ve hurt her feelings. I step toward her to offer an apology, but Campbell stops me.

“Leave it,” she whispers when Jen is out of earshot.

I can feel the lines between my brows deepen. I may not be the brightest crayon in the box, but I know when to offer an apology and apparently this moment calls for one; I’ve offended Jen in some way. While I meant to serve up a decent ration, it was never my intention for her to leave hurt today.

“What do you mean, ‘leave it,’ Cam? I obviously said something wrong. I should apologize,” I explain as I move past her.

Jen has her back to me, hastily throwing her bags over her shoulders. The poor thing looks like a pack mule; I’m honestly surprised she doesn’t hire an assistant to lug around all of her equipment. Having her back to me actually makes this uncomfortable task of groveling much more bearable.

“I’m not sure what I said to upset you, but…”

“Don’t fucking worry about it. I don’t need an apology from someone beneath my rank, remember?” she seethes as she twirls around to face me. Her bags nail me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me, barreling me over to attempt to catch my breath. Before I can say anything, defend myself, offer up a fuck you right back…anything, she storms off in the direction in which she arrived, bags and all.

“I warned you to stay away, Casen,” Cam says when she strides up next to me and nudges my shoulder.

“Seriously, Cam, I didn’t have a chance to even slightly backtrack. I was dead in the water,” I add. “You would have thought I called her a C-you-next-Tuesday, the way she reacted. What in the hell?”

“Case, in Jen world, that’s exactly what you called her. Give her a little time to cool down, she’ll get over it,” she reassures me, taking my button-down from me and giving it a better wringing, like it will make a difference with the constant rain which is pouring on us.

“Face it, dude, you have the worst luck possible,” Royce interrupts.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask, feeling myself getting angry about the overall situation.

“Oh, come on, dude. When it comes to women, you have the worst luck ever. It could be raining pussy right now and you would get smacked in the head with a dick.”

John and Seiger have joined the group and are bursting into laughter, while Campbell tries to contain her amusement; at least she’s polite. It all heightens my irritation.

“Fuck you guys, I’m going home to get dry,” I spout off before turning my calmer attention to Campbell. “Cam, let me know when the pictures are ready, please.” She agrees and I take off toward my truck. I hope the walk in the rain will wash this horrible fucking day and my tainted mood off. There is no chance it will take away replaying thoughts of Jen soaked through with her camera, before I fucked it all up.

Jen

The photo shoot for Absolution took longer than I wanted it to, but I still had plenty of time to run home and change into some dry clothes before meeting the girls for our weekly coffee outing. Since Vivian moved back to Denver, the four of us always make sure to carve out time each week to get together at A Scone’s Throw, our favorite little mom and pop coffee shop.

I should have offered Campbell a ride from the shoot, but Casen Thompson put me in such a tizzy the only thing I could think of was getting the hell out of there. He did nothing the entire day except attempt to piss me off; it was like he wanted to see me angry. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, with his shaggy, sandy brown hair, grey eyes, tall, toned body, and three-quarter sleeve tattoos. He’s gorgeous, I’ll admit that, but he knows it, and that’s worse. I hate guys like him, they are only good for one thing, and I already had a Cooper for the week. I tried to be professional, but I wanted nothing more than to rip off his balls and make earrings out of them. I’m positive the fashion trend would take off once I plastered flyers of them all over Denver with a huge headline, which read, ‘Casen Thompson is a ball-less prick.’

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my annoyed self, before pulling open the door to the coffee shop. I love these girls. They are my family and I would do anything for any of them. I don’t want my shitty morning to spill into my afternoon girl time.

Cam and Vivian are already at our table when I’ve finally composed myself enough to enter. “Hello, my chicas,” I say, as I plop myself down in my usual chair. Cam has since changed from the photo shoot and looks comfortable in her tattered jeans, sneakers, and Van Morrison T-shirt. Her hair is still wet and piled high in a ponytail. This was her typical attire in college, but now she reserves her cozy clothes for casual days with us. Most other times, she looks like something out of a 1950s pinup magazine. When she sees me, she gives me a slight wave and a tight smile. Yup, she is approaching with caution.

Vivian, on the other hand, is absolute perfection. Two years ago after her husband Will died, I couldn’t say the same thing about her, but now her life is one which most would be jealous of. She married Brooks and moved into his colossal cabin. Their kids have blended together like the fucking Brady Bunch, and now she’s pregnant. I guess that’s what a St. Lucia honeymoon will do for you; I’m glad neither is in my future.

Her smile is big and bright, and her greeting is even warmer. She stands when I reach the table and pulls me into her famous momma bear hug. I pat her back and move to my seat as quickly as possible to order a caramel macchiato. If I were in a better mood, she would have gotten a slap on the ass, like usual.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Viv asks, noticing my less than enthusiastic greeting. “I never get a pitiful tap on the back from you, girly,” she adds as she sits back down.

I immediately pick up the menu from the center of the table and nonchalantly flip through it. “What?” I ask casually. “I’m good, just a rough morning dealing with immature musicians, in the rain no less.” I slide my eyes over the menu to peer at Campbell across the table. “I don’t know where you find these assholes, but really, Cam, it’s time to swim in a bigger, better pond.”

“Oh whatever, Jen. If that shoot had lasted any longer, you probably would have taken one of them home,” she jokes.

“Bite your tongue, woman!” I sneer. “The only one who even seemed half-way decent was their guitarist and he proved himself to be a grade-A fucktard.”

The waitress makes her way to the table just as my expletive spills out of my mouth. She places Cam’s coffee and Vivian’s tea on the table and looks to me disapprovingly for my order. Yes, ma’am, I’m a potty mouth; we’ve been coming here for months and my language is just as inappropriate on each occasion. I’m not sure why she thinks her scolding expression will change that now.