“Well, his name is Ian and we went on a date. Or maybe one and a half dates depending on how you count it.”
Faith let that one slide. “And you like him?”
I nodded. “I really like him.”
I did really like Ian. Which was why I couldn’t understand why it was so hard for me to answer his texts. I knew he wanted to see me again because he said so, but part of me just couldn’t believe it.
“And does he like you?”
“He seems to.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Her expression softened. “Is it about Sam?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. Probably partly.”
Sam was dead. My college sweetheart, the guy I thought I was going to have babies with and grow old next to, was gone. I’d tried to let him go, but it was hard. There were still mornings when I woke up and thought about him as my first thought of the day. Then I would have to remember that he was dead and basically the whole day would be ruined. Those days weren’t as frequent anymore, but it still sucked.
“Do you feel guilty?” Faith asked me. “For meeting someone new?”
I swallowed. Faith was really observant, but it probably didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that it was guilt that had me feeling so down when I ought to be happy. Of course, I felt guilty.
“I know he’d want me to move on,” I told her. “It’s just… I still miss him. I feel like I’m giving him up, or, I don’t know, betraying his memory.”
Faith frowned. “I think those are probably totally normal feelings.”
Yeah, that’s what my therapist said, too. We had our weekly session the morning after Ian and I had gone roller skating and had sex. My therapist, Laura, seemed to think it was good that I was putting myself out there.
I considered Faith’s words. “They might be normal feelings, but they still make me feel evil,” I told her. “I want to let myself think that this thing with Ian could mean something, but even if I didn’t have my own hang-ups, it’s not like he’s boyfriend material.”
“What do you mean?”
Sweet, innocent Faith. I doubted she even listened to rock music. She probably listened to Christian country music or something. Maybe some Taylor Swift or something. It was obvious she’d never heard of Ian Conroe or Axial Tilt until I brought them up, which was on the same unforgivable level as not knowing who Pearl Jam and Nirvana were. I loved Faith but we had very different tastes.
“Ian’s had some issues in his personal life. He’s a recovering alcoholic. He’s also got a really chaotic life in general. He’s part of a really famous rock band that just got back together. According to their manager, they might be going on tour soon.”
Faith’s expression turned sympathetic. “That does sound complicated,” she admitted.
“I just don’t know if I’m ready for this to be my rebound relationship,” I told her. “I mean the sex was great, but—”
Faith’s eyes went as big as saucers. “You two have already had sex?”
“Don’t guilt me, please.” I was gonna’ blow her sweet, naïve little mind with my slutty ways. Not only did we have very different musical tastes, but Faith also had very different attitudes about sex and marriage. She was very Catholic, but not in the pushy, proselytizing way. She just had her way of doing things that she thought was right, and although she also thought she was progressive, it was really only in comparison to her even more conservative mother.
“I would never guilt you,” she insisted. “I don’t judge you. I just want you to be safe.”
There was something deeply ironic about the fact I now felt guilty for even suggesting that she might make me feel guilty.
“I’m being safe,” I promised her. “Really.”
“And Ian is being respectful and nice to you?”
I nodded. “Yes. For a hard-partying rock star type, he’s been a perfect gentleman.” He had been. He’d even given me some space when I asked for it without making me feel like he was doing it because he didn’t have any interest. I got the feeling that he was waiting for me to decide what I wanted to do.
“Then maybe stop worrying about it,” Faith suggested. “Just let things develop naturally.”
I blinked at her in surprise. “You think I should see him again?”
She shrugged. “You and I have pretty different taste in men. We have different taste in a lot of things. But I trust you to know what’s good for you.”
I smiled. “Even if it means I’m going around fucking a rock star in an alley, elbowing him in the face by accident, getting caught making out topless by his friend and the friend’s wife, and making up my professional life as I go along?”
Ugh. It didn’t sound good when I said it all out loud.
Faith’s expression froze, but she kept on smiling. “If that’s what you want.”
I’d seriously been flying by the seat of my pants for the last week. I’d taken three additional freelance jobs that were quick, easy money and made more in the last five days than I had in the last five months of working at the news channel. But I couldn’t rely on the gigs to keep coming in like they had been. I either needed to get more high-profile work to keep up my momentum or get a real job. And I really didn’t want a real job.
All this heavy life decision-making was causing me heartburn.
“So,” I asked Faith, “now that you’ve heard all my crazy drama, what’s new with you?”
Faith brightened. “The hospital gossip mill is going nuts over my new stepbrother, Brandon. Apparently, he’s been smoking pot in the doctor’s lounge.”
I grinned. “Tell me all about it.”
17
Ian
Only a summons from my brother, Ryan, could convince me to drag my ass over to his west Austin office at the ungodly hour of eight a.m. I’d stayed up late writing Vanessa’s song, the one I’d been inspired to write on our date at the roller rink. It was entitled ‘This One’s For You.’ I still needed Jason’s help with some of the vocal harmonies and maybe some refinement on the bridge, but it was going to be good. Great actually. I’d never been so inspired.
Which is why being up early was such a goddamn drag. I had no idea how my darling brother managed to end up a morning person. Neither of our parents possessed that deplorable trait. I certainly hadn’t inherited it. But Ryan could just roll out of bed like the goddamn Energizer bunny at seven a.m. and go for a nice jog. What a freak.
“Okay, I’m here,” I reported, walking straight past his bemused, unsmiling assistant and into his office. I slammed the door for good measure. “What on earth could possibly be so pressing that I needed to get up before nine a.m.?”
Ryan blinked at me, unimpressed and slightly confused. “I thought you were scheduled for eleven thirty.” He checked his watch.
“Your email said eight.” At least, I thought it had. If I got up for nothing, I was going to be very irritable, and somewhat embarrassed. Or maybe it was very embarrassed and somewhat irritable. Either way it was going to suck.
Oblivious, Ryan raised an eyebrow and pressed a button on his phone. “Alexandra, what time is Ian scheduled for?”
“You said to schedule him for eleven thirty but to buffer it. He’s always late so I buffered it to eight.” The response was dry.
“Thanks, Alexandra,” Ryan replied. “Next time you probably only need to buffer it by thirty minutes and not three hours.”
“Mmhmm. Okay. Whatever you say.” She sounded like she couldn’t care less.
Ryan rolled his eyes and closed the intercom. “Sorry. She hates lateness. Burn her once and this is what she does.”
I hadn’t realized that I’d ever burned her. I couldn’t even remember ever meeting her.
“Why do you have such a mean secretary?” I asked Ryan. “Couldn’t you get a nice one? You know the kind that brings you coffee and smiles?”
Ryan shook his head. “No way. Alexandra is worth her weight in gold. Do you have any idea how many people she’s gotten rid
of just by glaring at them?”
I frowned. “You want to get rid of people?” Most of my brother’s world was a total mystery to me. “Wouldn’t that be bad for business?”
Ryan shrugged. “Being a lawyer is all about structuring your time effectively. That means not spending too much time letting people down gently or redirecting them. Now that I work for a record label, this is doubly true.”
Understanding dawned on me. “You mean you don’t get paid to talk to stupid people.”
He nodded. “And they say I’m the smart one.”
“No one says that,” I replied.
Ryan laughed. “No, of course not.”
It wasn’t true, of course. People did say that Ryan was the smart one. He’d always been the smart one. And the one who could follow the rules. And the one who could be trusted.
I used to think of myself as the fun one. The exciting, lively yang to Ryan’s dower, dutiful yin. I told myself that I was the normal one, and that nerdy, studious Ryan was the outlier. But that was mostly the booze talking. In reality, Ryan was plenty of fun in his own way, and I was just an unhinged drunk. That had been an unfortunate realization.
“So, what did you want, anyway?” I asked him, trying to keep myself from sinking further into the funk that had been threatening to envelope me since Vanessa went radio-silent a few days ago. She hadn’t entirely frozen me out of our ongoing text conversation, but I got the feeling she was considering it. I knew why she was suddenly ambivalent, of course. Fucking her behind the roller rink was trashy and clearly indicated that I was not a keeper.
Oblivious to my romantic concerns, Ryan sorted through some piles on his desk. He thrust the papers across the desk at me. “Paperwork.”
Gross. I hated paperwork. Loathed and feared it. Somehow, Ryan had found himself a profession where he could do the one thing that I was utterly incompetent at. Well, maybe not the only thing. Whatever.
Ryan rolled a pen across the desk and I spun it between my fingers like I sometimes did with my drumsticks. I even did a little baton toss with it.
“And do I want to know what kind of paperwork you’re shoving under my nose?”
“It’s for the tour.”
I blinked at him. “What tour?”
Ryan smirked at me. “What, like you didn’t know?”
I sat down in one of the chairs that flanked Ryan’s massive lawyer boss-man desk. My heart was hammering in my chest.
“Are you for real?” If not, this was the world’s cruelest prank. Even worse than the time I’d superglued his hand to his face. Or the time I put pepper on his fan blades. Or the time… on second thought, I might deserve a cruel prank or two.
Ryan’s smile widened. “Wasn’t the plan always a reunion tour?”
My mouth worked up and down, but no sound was coming out. I gave up and gaped at him.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
I nodded dumbly and started scanning the documents for signature lines. I signed away God-knows-what. I knew it was safe to do so. Ryan had looked it over.
“When?” I managed to stutter as I scribbled. I’d never been so happy to sign my life away.
Finally. After all these years, I’d finally get to tour with Axial Tilt. After one aborted launch a year ago (thanks to Jason knocking up his girlfriend), I’d worried there would never be another chance. Recapturing the glory days of Axial Tilt was my ultimate life’s goal. I just wanted a little reunion tour, then a couple of hot tracks, a new album, a couple of even hotter tracks, and a sold-out world tour. Not that much to ask for really.
Ryan sat back in his seat, took a sip of his coffee, and regarded me over the rim. He was clearly enjoying this. He took his time answering me. “Two weeks from now,” he told me as I vibrated in my chair. “It’s a surprise tour, so we had to put things together a bit quicker than usual. Six cities. If it goes well, maybe an additional six.”
“So, twelve cities then.” It was going to go well. I was going to make sure it went well, if I had to play all the instruments and sing all the songs myself. I finished with the paperwork and slid it back over the desk to Ryan. “This is good. This was worth getting up at the ass-crack of dawn for.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Ryan’s expression shifted to that familiar skepticism-concern amalgamation that was both endearing and infuriating. “You’re ready for this, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” It was true. I was the poster boy for recovery. I abstained from all the bad stuff. Not even just liquor and drugs and the obvious no-no’s. I also abstained from over-the-counter cough syrup. And desserts with rum in them. And cholesterol. I even abstained from meat entirely, and dairy. I ran three to five miles a day. At thirty-four, I was in the best shape of my life. I could literally run circles around twenty-four-year-old Ian.
“Are you sure?”
I frowned at him. “Your confidence in me is so inspiring.”
His expression softened. “I’m just—”
I cut him off. “I know. I know. It’s fine.”
Ryan was only looking out for me. It wasn’t his fault. He was supposed to be the little brother, but most of the time, he was the one looking out for me. It had always been that way.
“So,” he asked next, clearly switching gears entirely. I tensed. “I heard you had a date. An actual date with an actual woman who isn’t a groupie. What’s up with that?”
My heart skipped a beat, and not in the giddy, fun way. In the horrible, sinking realization way.
If I went on tour, what would happen with Vanessa?
18
Vanessa
I got the call from Don as I was staring at my bank account and wishing for a miracle. Axial Tilt’s manager didn’t exactly look like an angel, more like Luigi from Mario, but whatever. Maybe angels loved mustaches. I’d take what I could get.
“How do you feel about going on tour with Axial Tilt?” he asked me. “Six cities, four weeks, continental US only.”
My startled laugh turned into a strangled cough. “What?”
“I’ll level with you, Vanessa; I didn’t think we’d need you after that first show at South by Southwest. We’d just parted ways with another videographer and Ian pulled you out of nowhere and I figured it would be better than nothing.” He paused, presumably to give me a moment to realize my insignificance. “But then after the video was released, I realized we might be onto something. Your last video was even better than your first. I want to get you under contract before someone else does. We need someone to document the next few weeks. This is a combined reunion and farewell tour for Axial Tilt. Our swan song. We want to make sure it’s captured by someone with the right skillset. I won’t lie to you. You were the second choice. I tried to get our first guy back, but he’s being a diva and, to be honest, I like my second choice pretty damn well.”
I took a deep breath in. Held it. Let it out.
That was a lot to take in. I took a moment to gather my thoughts, but then my sarcastic self had to go and reply.
“Plus, I’m probably cheaper.”
Don laughed. “Yeah, but I’m going to make it worth your while to uproot your whole life for four weeks and live on a bus.”
“A bus?”
“It’s a really nice bus, if it makes any difference. Plus, we’ll spend the nights in hotels.”
Was I ready to live on a bus with Ian for four weeks? Was I ready to live on a bus, period? My mind was spinning.
“You don’t have to decide right this second,” Don was saying. “I’ll send you a contract and I don’t need an answer for a few days.”
Oh, a few days. How generous.
I didn’t say it. Of course, it was generous. This entire offer was probably generous. Axial Tilt had been more than fair with me so far on rates. I could only imagine that this gig would set me up for the rest of the year. In fact, I was sure of it. Plus, I’d have one hell of a resume item.
The thought was utterly mind-blowing. Don and I hung up a
nd I spent the next fifteen minutes convincing myself that I hadn’t been hallucinating until the contract popped up in my inbox. I read over it, stunned.
In a lot of ways, this was perfect timing. I needed this job. I also needed to get the hell out of my crappy, studio apartment. It was tiny, cramped, and depressing. And my lease was up. This would give me the opportunity to get a fresh start.
Plus, I’d be close to Ian. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. I felt like I was balanced on the edge of something with him. That if I took the next step, it would suddenly become real. We wouldn’t be just hooking up or friends with benefits. We’d be something else. Something more.
Part of me really wanted that. I missed the closeness of relationships. I missed the intimacy and comfort. But I was also afraid. Ian was not like anyone I’d ever been with before, and the reasons why I shouldn’t pursue something with him seemed to go on and on.
He was a rock star with a reputation for wrecking hotel rooms and breaking hearts. He had a controlled, but still very real, addiction to alcohol. He was older than me. And even if all those reasons were surmountable, there was also the fact that I was no catch myself.
I had issues. I wasn’t sure I was ready for a relationship again. The morning after I slept with Ian, I woke up, dug out a picture of Sam, and cried like I’d cheated on him.
It was while I was wrestling with my indecision that Caroline finally returned my call. I scrambled to answer the video call on Skype.
The picture on my laptop showed Caroline sitting on a deck somewhere overlooking a lake. Wherever she was in Botswana, it was beautiful. She looked happy, too. Her platinum blonde hair reflected the light, so it looked almost white in the morning light on the other side of the world.
This One’s For You Page 8