Escaping Perfect by Emma Harrison Read Free Book Online Page A

dollars,” Britta said, her fingers never slowing.
    I laughed as the girls finished up their song. There was a mild smattering of applause from around the room, and then a gangly black kid in a white cowboy hat too big for his head took the stage.
    â€œThat was Danny and Delia! Let’s hear it!” he shouted.
    The crowd cheered again, but this time with even less enthusiasm.
    â€œAll right, all right,” the MC said cheerily, not seeming to notice. “Next up we have the Case Files!”
    The bar filled with hoots and cheers and hollers as Jasper bounded onto the stage with a gleaming black guitar, followed by two other guys with guitars and one drumstick-twirling girl. They all wore some combination of distressed jeans and artfully wrinkled T-shirts, and each sported a small, distinguishing accessory—a sparkly green scarf for the drummer, a slew of rope bracelets for guitarist number one, a silver nose ring and eyeliner for guitarist number two. But not Jasper. Jasper looked every bit the cowboy in his pressed snap-front shirt, gleaming belt buckle, and black hat. My heart caught at the mere sight of him. He gazed past us, over our heads, out at the crowd, and I somehow felt disappointed that he hadn’t psychically known I was there, down front, and caught my eye right away.
    Honestly, there was something wrong with me. There were probably a dozen other girls in this bar he really did know. Maybe a dozen girls in this bar he’d even hooked up with. I had no idea. What I did know was that he hadn’t played a note yet and I was thinking like a groupie idiot.
    â€œThe Case Files?” Britta scoffed and shook her head at her computer screen. “Worst name he’s come up with yet.”
    Her fingers flew furiously.
    â€œSo, Fiona, what’s the deal between your brother and Jasper?” I asked, keeping one eye on him as I spoke to her.
    Britta made a startling bleating sound that might have been a laugh or a hiccup. “Got a few hours?”
    â€œThey just . . . don’t get along,” Fiona said, adjusting herself on her chair. “It’s a long story.”
    â€œUnderstatement!” Britta sang.
    Up on the stage Jasper leaned in to the mic. “Evening, everyone! We’re the Case Files.”
    Then he turned around and counted the rhythm. “One, two, three, four!”
    The music began, a harmonious, upbeat strum of guitars, and I tore my eyes off Jasper, deciding to change the subject. “Worst name yet?” I asked.
    â€œThis is Jasper’s third band in two years,” Fiona replied, nodding along to the beat. “The first one was In Case of Emergency, and he had a keyboardist. The second was the Black Case, which included a brass section. He told me now he’s trying to pare things down.”
    Wow. Talk about an ego. Naming every one of his bands after himself? Not that I was surprised. Boy was full of himselfwhen he was eight years old, and that was before the testosterone and the cheekbones and what I was betting were some pretty serious abs under all those silver snaps.
    The thought had barely formed in my mind when Jasper looked down at us midstrum and winked. I blushed as at least twenty girls in the room turned to stare me down.
    Britta groaned. “Lord, you’d think he was still channeling JT.”
    â€œJT?” I asked.
    â€œJustin Timberlake,” she clarified. “He had this whole phase in middle school.”
    I snorted a laugh. That I would have liked to see.
    â€œSo, Lia, Britta’s looking for a roommate. She used to live with Jennifer. You guys should talk,” Fiona said.
    â€œOh, yeah?” I said hopefully. “Where do you live?”
    As if it mattered. I’d take a mattress in the back of someone’s pickup right now.
    â€œApartment above Hadley’s.” For the first time her fingers stopped moving, and she really looked at me. “Two bedrooms, one