We quietly headed up to the deck, taking care not to disturb the rest of the band.
Up there the night air was cool, with just a hint of breeze. Jax threw himself down on the edge of a lounge chair, and I dragged another one for myself next to his.
He didn't say a word, but he took in big gulps of the refreshing air. From his unusual pallor and the deep furrows in his brow as he stared at the deck floor, I could tell that the demons from his nightmare were still gripping him tightly.
I kept my gaze trained on Jax, uneasily watching his signs of distress. He sat rigidly in the chair, his hands flexing and clenching on the armrests, his face still unnaturally pale.
He was trying to keep his composure in front of me, but I could tell he was hanging on by a thread. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know what to do. I felt helpless. And whatever helplessness I was feeling, I knew Jax was feeling a hundred times worse.
As the moments stretched out in silence, I could see by Jax's tense posture that the deep breathing wasn't helping him calm down.
I reached out and covered his hand with mine. He jumped, and looked at me with startled eyes.
"Sorry," I murmured, drawing my hand away.
He exhaled slowly. "Don't worry about it."
I settled back in my chair, my brow furrowed. It hurt to see him so tense and miserable. There had to be something I could do to help.
My eyes roamed around the deck, looking for a way to distract him from his pain. I squinted at the bar behind him. Bernie kept it stocked with every kind of liquor Jax liked.
Then my eyes fell on a ceramic ashtray resting on top of the bar. Inside was resting a half-smoked joint.
Perfect. This could be just the medicine he needed.
I scooped it up and held it out to Jax like I had found a prize. "Look," I said as I snapped up a lighter that was next to the ashtray. A few quick puffs and the joint was lit.
I leaned back in my chair and took a big drag. "Damn," I said, coughing as I exhaled. I was still a relative newbie when it came to smoking pot. "Chewie outdid himself. Want to try?"
I held out the joint to Jax. He stared at the glowing tip for a second, then reached out and plucked it from between my fingers.
He took a deep, long drag, and a cloud of smoke curled around his head as he exhaled. His eyes squeezed shut briefly, and he nodded a thanks before offering it back to me with shaking hands.
Our fingers brushed, and the image of us sharing a smoke like this outside of Denver flashed before my eyes. The connection between us had been so simple back then. Just a guy getting to know a girl. And now we were locked in a battle against Jax's past.
I took another quick puff on the joint before passing it back to Jax.
He sighed deeply and took one more slow hit. His back was hunched as he sat on the edge of the lounge chair, and suddenly I had another idea.
I stood up and moved over to Jax, softly placing my hands on his shoulders as I lowered myself behind him. From this position I began kneading his neck with firm movements.
He groaned a little and hung his head forward as I worked him over. Other than that, he stayed quiet, and I cast about for an amusing story to distract him with.
"Hey," I said in as upbeat a voice as I could manage, "did the guys ever ask you to settle their debate?"
Jax opened his mouth slightly, then paused and licked his lips. "No," he said in a thick voice.
I moved my hands in small circles, easing the knots as I found them. His body slowly started to relax under my touch.
"Hmm, well, you might want to get in on this. You are the band leader, after all."
He took another long drag on the joint, holding it loosely between his fingers. "What debate?"
"The guys went to a strip club a few days ago and saw a show."
I adjusted my rhythm and increased the pressure of my movements on his back. He groaned a little in relief as I touched a sensitive spot, then nodded his head, indicating that I should go on.
That encouraged me, so I continued with more enthusiasm. "It must have been good, because Chewie came back with the brilliant idea to hire a couple of girls as background dancers for the Hitchcocks."
A shadow of a smile hinted around his lips as he turned his head briefly. His muscles relaxed a little more under my fingers as I pressed into the small of his back.
"So what do you think, would that amp up the show?" I asked.
"I like the show the way it is," Jax said with a slight shrug.
I moved my hands back up to his shoulders, glad to find that most of his tension there had evaporated. I lifted a hand to gently brush his tangled hair behind his left ear. "Then you'd better tell that to Chewie. He's got Kev half convinced that Amber and Coco would be a great addition."
Jax sighed. "Maybe next tour."
He was quiet after that, and I didn't know what else to say. I guess it hadn't been enough to get his mind off his problems. I focused instead on really digging in and kneading his neck. Well, at least I can do this.
Then Jax shifted under my hands. "But I guess I wouldn't mind doing a few interviews," he said in a quiet voice.
I stared at the back of his head. Was that a joke?
From the trace of a smile that haunted his lips as he turned to me, I had to say yes. I swallowed, then gave a throaty laugh. "You still have a fondness for lining up women."
He shrugged, and I moved my hands to his shoulders. "They can try out solo."
"Well, I'm sure the guys won't mind that."
This time the conversation really was over because Jax didn't follow up on my comment. But his body under my hands had relaxed, and I felt confident I'd dragged him away from his troubles, at least for a bit.
Jax turned slightly as he took another puff on the joint, and the shadows played across his face, hiding the new marks he'd made on his forehead.
But even if they were hidden, I knew they were there. The image of Jax in torment, banging his head on the wall, leaped back into my mind. There was nothing stopping Jax from hurting himself again if he was caught in the throes of a nightmare.
I frowned in concentration as I continued my kneading. After our San Francisco trip, I'd thought that I'd really been helping him, but maybe I could only provide temporary relief. I had to face the problem squarely—it wouldn't go away with a couple of puffs and an amateur massage. The truth was, even if I had been named the best girlfriend in the world, I wouldn't be able to fight his demons for him. So how would Jax get through this?
My fingers involuntarily tightened on his shoulders as an idea occurred to me. Deep problems like his were never fixed with an instant cure. They required time, and lots of hard, personal work before any progress could be made.