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Most of his bandmates were looking forward to taking a month off in Los Angeles. Sam, not so much. He hated the city. Too big, too many people. If he was going to stay in one place, he would have preferred somewhere that would feel like a home, rather than a giant city where the only reason anyone knew him was that he was the lead guitarist for Fallen Angels. He’d leave, get himself a house in some small town in the Midwest somewhere, except that even on their month off they had appearances and interviews and the band expected him to be able to come to jam sessions and parties at a moment’s notice.
That’s how Sam found himself at this stupid party. Balthazar, their bassist, had put out a call in their group chat that he had a brilliant idea for a new song and he needed the band together to work it out and get it written. In Balthazar’s defense, the idea was brilliant, lightning in a bottle, and the song would likely be a huge hit for them. If they could ever get back to it and get the ending written, after being interrupted by the party Balthazar had planned for the evening before he got his inspiration. Of course, Balthazar had insisted the band stay and join in the revelry, make it that much more fun.
Sam had his beer in his hand and was making awkward conversation with a couple girls who were already way too drunk and/or high for him to even consider their idea of “completing the set” – sleeping with all five members of the band. He was desperately looking for a way out of the conversation when he noticed her and spat out the sip of beer he’d just taken. “Excuse me, ladies, I just saw someone I really need to talk to.” He made his way through the crowd to the woman in the tight jean shorts and tube top, with her long hair pulled up into a fancy ponytail. “Jo? Is that you?”
She turned to face him, and sure enough, it was Jo Harvelle. Sam and Jo had grown up together, since their parents were best friends. She had been like their little sister. She’d always talked about going into the family business, being a mechanic, displaying her knife collection, and generally being as far from the glammed up Hollywood girl in front of Sam as he could imagine. It made no sense for her to be here.
Even weirder, as she looked at him, there was no sign that she recognized him. “Jo, it’s me. Sam. Winchester.” Most people in this room would know him as Sam Wesson, but that didn’t matter. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m an actress!” Jo’s smile was so fake it was painful, but at least the name had sparked something in her. “It’s so good to see you, Sam! It’s been, what, a year?”
Sam was about to protest that it couldn’t have been that long, but as he tried to think when he had last talked to her, he couldn’t remember anything since the Christmas before last. “Yeah, I’ve… tour got really busy, you know? I’m really sorry, but it’s so good to see you here. Acting, huh? When did that happen?”
“Oh, you know, Mom always hated the thought of me wasting my life as a waitress at the diner, and the garage wasn’t doing well enough to justify having me there with our dads, so I figured… why not give this a try, right? I’m doing good, too, haven’t had a big break yet but I’ve had enough small jobs that I’m not on the streets or anything.” Jo’s megawatt smile would have fooled anyone but Sam. “I think I might be on the brink of something big, though, there’s a TV pilot that my agent is really excited about for me. The role’s a recurring character, they want a tiny badass chick, like Buffy, you know? Looks all girly girl right up until she kicks your face off?”
“Sounds right up your alley, all right,” Sam had to admit. He took her arm, leading her off somewhere private. “Jo, seriously, are you all right? If you need help, whether that’s money or just a friendly face or a connection you want to exploit, I’m here for you. You have my direct phone number.”
Jo looked over her shoulder, going to the door to the bedroom and closing it after hooking a sandal over the knob. “I’m serious about this role, Sam, if I can get it I think it’ll lead to bigger things. It’s been a really bad year, though. I…” She burst into tears. “I was so homesick that first month I was here that I had to make myself basically forget everything and everyone back home. Seeing you here, it’s all flooding back. How do you do it? How did you leave us behind?”
“Well, it helps that Dad basically said that if I walked out that door I shouldn’t go back,” Sam scoffed. “I never meant to get so busy that I lost contact with you, Jo, I’m so sorry. Pretty much the only one back home I’ve talked to in the last year is Dean, and that’s only because he’d fly out to whatever the next tour date was and kick my ass if he didn’t hear from me every day.”
Jo wiped her eyes, a giggle escaping through the tears. “Yeah, he really would. Can I… since I’m here in town now, can we get together for coffee or lunch or something once in a while?”
“That depends. If paparazzi find out, they may start calling you my girlfriend. Which, I don’t mind, whether it’s true or you’re using me to get that fame boost or you just don’t mind the rumor getting out, as long as you know what you’re getting into.”
Jo opened her mouth, but it snapped closed. “Wait. You’re okay with me being your girlfriend? Since when? Is this something that’s been there for a while or did your mouth just get ahead of your brain?”
Sam ran a hand through his hair, wincing a little. He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud. “I… when I left home, obviously it was hell leaving Dean behind. That, I’d expected. I hadn’t realized how hard it was going to be to leave you. For way too long, I thought it was because I’d left my sister behind, but at some point I realized that I’d stopped thinking of you as a sister. I don’t mean any pressure on you and I have no problem faking a relationship to help you get your career farther, but…”
“You know, I wasn’t sure about closing that door. People are going to think I’m in here doing the groupie thing. It… won’t exactly ruin my reputation.” Jo bit her lip and looked up to Sam for his reaction. Sam just smiled softly at her. “You don’t care?”
“You’re a big girl, Jo, as long as it’s consensual it’s none of my business what you do, and I’ve been in this life long enough to know how it works,” he reminded her gently.
“You always were such a gentleman,” Jo breathed, throwing herself into Sam’s arms. “I’m not sure how well I’ll handle a relationship where you’re too busy to talk to me on tour, so can you add me to the list of you’re going to get your ass kicked if I don’t at least get a text conversation every day? If you can, I would love to give things a try with you.”
“I think that’s perfectly fair.” Sam wrapped Jo up in a giant hug. “So… coffee tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure.” Jo looked over at the door. “If you want to make use of the room we’ve got, I’m fine with that, but if you’d rather just hang out here and catch up in private, I think I’ve got enough Appearance Credit that I can miss the rest of the party.”
“That sounds like a great idea.” Sam headed for the bed, pulling Jo down beside him to cuddle and catch up.