Anyone But You

by Jerica MacMillan

  This is one set of plans that I can’t afford to screw up, though, regardless of how my life plans have turned out so far.

  But no matter how I try to shake my conflicted thoughts about my future, I can’t seem to, and I stare at the blank screen of my phone while my parents’s words from our video chat yesterday play back in my head.

  “How long are you going to play at this, Viola?” Mom asked. “You’re wasting your talents.”

  I rolled my eyes, unable to help myself. “What talents are those, Mom? And how is this more of a waste of them than answering phones at an insurance agency?”

  “Honey,” my dad said, trying to placate both of us. “Your mom and I are just concerned. Is this really what you want to do with your life?”

  The question haunts me. No, I don’t want to be someone’s assistant forever. But going home and getting another assistant job isn’t going to get me any closer to whatever it is I really want to do.

  Largely because I have no idea what that is.

  At least here I’m traveling, experiencing life, doing more than sitting in one box for eight hours only to return to the box I live in where I watch TV or read a book till it’s time for bed, only to wake up and repeat the same dull routine the next day and the next day and the next day, broken only by weekends, where I sometimes meet up with friends in the evening for drinks or brunch on Sunday. Or occasionally go on a date when I feel up to braving the online dating scene. Without apps, my dating life would’ve been nonexistent.

  While I’m not seeing much of the cities we pass through because I’m busy or exhausted, at least this job is challenging. Engaging. Things go wrong, stuff comes up, and I have to deal with it on the fly. I get to meet people and listen to music and have fun.

  Do I want to do this forever?

  Probably not.

  But for now, I’m having fun for what feels like the first time ever.

  Yeah, college was fun, but it wasn’t the freeing experience most of my friends seemed to have. I still lived with my parents, because I attended the university where they taught. Free tuition is too good of a deal to pass up.

  And while I’m not saddled with student debt—which is a major bonus as far as I’m concerned—I never got out from under the weight of my parents’ expectations.

  And now, at twenty-three, I’m finally trying to break free, only to have them calling me nonstop trying to convince me to turn around, give all this up, and come back home.

  I open my email app and read through the email Mom sent me this morning one more time. It’s a list of job openings near where they live. All of them boring assistant or receptionist jobs in stuffy offices. The same type of quiet, stifling jobs that I just escaped.

  But because I hate conflict, I respond with a single sentence. “I’ll look them over.”

  It’s a lie. I won’t. I don’t want to.

  But at least it’ll placate Mom, and maybe she’ll let up for a while.

  And maybe time will stand still so I can get enough sleep in one night. Yeah … both are equally likely to happen.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mason

  Apprehension skitters up and down my spine. Beckett Stone’s tour is joining us today, and we’ll be traveling together for the next six weeks.

  When I first heard about this plan a few months ago, I’ll admit I wasn’t thrilled.

  Yeah, Beckett seems like an alright guy from what I can tell. But I went out of my way to not spend much time with him the last few times our paths have crossed.

  Because I was still butt-hurt about Blaire leaving. I blamed him for stealing her from us. From me, really, even though she wasn’t mine at any point. Not like she and Beckett belong to each other.

  And yes, I’ve moved on and let all that go. But there’s a new twist now in play—namely, Viola. And my relationship with her.

  Is Blaire going to think I’m just replacing her with her cousin? Like they’re an even trade? Or that I’ll fuck whoever’s the assistant regardless?

  Because that’s not what’s going on. Even though I know at least some people attached to the tour think so. I’ve heard the muttering, and I just hope Viola hasn’t.

  I’ve tried to be circumspect with her in front of other people. We haven’t had the discussion about how public she wants to be, so I’m trying to give her the time and space to decide.

  It’s difficult, though, I’m not gonna lie. I want to have my hands on her any time she’s in the room. Holding it together in front of the fans isn’t too much of a chore, mostly because she’s usually flitting between the four of us, ushering the fans around, making sure everyone gets equal time and attention and no one hogs any of us. They all paid the same amount for their tickets. No one gets to monopolize anything.

  But when it’s just the band? That’s a lot tougher.

  Yeah, she sits next to me, even going so far as seeking me out during band meetings or the pre-show meals. But I’m careful not to put my arm around her, even though I want to. And I definitely don’t kiss her unless we’re in my dressing room with the door closed. Of course, kissing isn’t usually all that happens in my dressing room with the door closed …

  “Are you okay?” Viola whispers to me from her spot next to me on the couch. We’re gathered in Marcus and Kendra’s suite for a band meeting, and Marcus is going over how the shows will work with the addition of Beckett. “You’re all fidgety.”

  I force a grin. “I’m fine. I just get antsy during meetings.”

  She gives me a narrow-eyed look like she’s not buying it. Then her fingers close over mine where they drum on my thigh. Then, to my utter astonishment, she pulls my hand into her lap and threads her fingers through mine. I sure as hell hope she’s paying attention to what Marcus is saying, because I’m too flabbergasted to notice anything other than the fact that she just very clearly outed us as a couple to everyone. Not that they didn’t already have their suspicions, but any lingering question is clearly dispelled now.

  With a deep breath, I give Viola’s hand a squeeze and do my best to refocus on Marcus. He catches my eye, glances at our joined hands and raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment without missing a beat.

  The meeting breaks up a few minutes later, and instead of letting Viola drift away like I normally do, I wrap my arm around her waist when we stand. If anyone knew we were banging but thought it must be a casual arrangement like I had with Blaire, then this should put that notion to rest. I don’t think I ever made a physical declaration like this about Blaire.

  Honestly, it never even occurred to me.

  Viola turns to me and smiles. “I have a few things to take care of. I’ll meet you in your room later?”

  I brush a kiss across her lips, taking full advantage of her willingness to be with me in public, and nod. “Of course. See you soon.”

  Her cheeks turn pink as her eyes dart around the room, conscious of everyone watching this exchange. Then she presses up on her toes and kisses me again. “Later.” When she steps away, her hips sway in a way that I can only assume is deliberate.

  Fuck me. This chick is something else.

  Whatever worries I had about being face-to-face with Blaire again are alleviated as soon as we’re all in the arena for the sound check.

  She trails Beckett on stage, ignoring all of us and making a beeline for Chad. I watch them, waiting for the inevitable fireworks from their personality clash, but shockingly, she laughs, he laughs, they confer over a tablet, and then go their separate ways.

  What was that?

  What happened to the ballbuster who lived to give Chad endless amounts of shit?

  I’m so confused right now.

  She turns to find me staring, her eyebrows raised and a smile pulling at her lips. “Hey, Mason. How’s it hanging?”

  I chuckle. “Long and loose, thanks for asking.”

  Stepping closer, she pulls me into a hug. “You seem like you’re doing well.”

  “I am.” I give her a light squeeze
and pull back, letting her examine me under her Blaire microscope. She might not have wanted to be with me, she might’ve needed to move on to bigger and better things, but she clearly never stopped caring about us. Not even me. “You look good, too. How’s it feel to be running the show?”

  Her grin pulls even wider. “It’s the best.” She glances around, her attention diverting to where Beckett and Marcus are talking while Danny and Aaron stand off to one side listening. “Things are going good for you guys? Viola’s working out well?”

  “She’s great,” I confirm. “I assume she would’ve told you if things were shitty, though.”

  She makes a funny face and shrugs a shoulder. “She mentioned it was a little rocky to start with, but she hasn’t actually given me a lot of details. Partly because we’re both so tired that we don’t talk much. And the last week or so, it’s all been logistics. Even though I’m officially coordinating with Chad, I’ve been looping her in too. I know he doesn’t always like sharing information.”

  Shaking my head, I let out a full throated laugh. “I take it you don’t miss working with him.”

  She shrugs again, casting a glance at me as she moves closer to the other guys. I follow behind her. “I like being in charge. He didn’t like me interfering. We work better apart.”

  As we join the group, Beckett reaches for her, pulling her into his side, his arm around her shoulders as hers goes around his waist, the picture of a couple in love.

  Everyone smiles at them as we move between shooting the shit, talking about new ideas that Marcus and Danny have come up with for collaborations and a few new songs that Beckett wants to test out with our help.

  Aaron sidles up next to me, his shoulder bumping mine. “How’re you holding up?”

  I give him a funny look. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  His eyes cut to Blaire and Beckett still talking new songs with Danny and Marcus. “I just thought this might be a little weird for you is all.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Is it weird for you?” Blaire had the same arrangement with both of us, after all, until Aaron found out about the daughter his high school girlfriend had kept secret from him. She’d always been the one who got away for him, so even though he was pissed about the whole secret baby thing at first, he got over his anger in record time, and now they’re one big happy family.

  He scoffs. “If you remember, I’m the one who ended things with Blaire and me.”

  “Oh, I definitely remember.”

  “Yeah … so … since she broke it off with you, and then you kinda went off the deep end …”

  “You’re afraid seeing her will put me into another tailspin, I’ll fuck over V, get drunk and high and screw my way through all of our groupies and Beckett’s combined?”

  He studies me, no longer making any attempt to look like he’s following the other conversation. “More or less.”

  With a snort, I shake my head and clap him on the shoulder. “I’m good, man. No need to worry about me. I’m gonna find V. She probably wants to say hi to her cousin.”

  I feel Aaron’s eyes on me as I walk away. He’s probably justified in being concerned given my behavior since Blaire left.

  But I’m really in no danger of going off the deep end. Just the thought of seeing Viola has electricity zipping through my veins and an unbidden smile stretching across my face.

  Whatever Blaire and I had, it wasn’t anything like I have with Viola. And if seeing Blaire again has done anything for me, it’s confirmed that Viola’s a better fit for me than Blaire ever was.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Viola

  “You bitch. Why didn’t you tell me that you and Mason were together?”

  Blushing, I look down at my drink. As soon as Kendra found out Blaire was coming, she insisted on a girls’ night at the first opportunity, which happens to be their first night in town.

  Even though I’m the assistant, Kendra actually organized everything. Ava, Sam, Kendra, Blaire, Beckett’s assistant Kelsey, and I are all sitting at a high top table in tiny dresses sipping expensive cocktails.

  The revelation that Mason and I are together came about when Blaire started scoping the place out for hot guys for Kelsey and me.

  But Kendra stopped her, clueing her in to my budding relationship with Mason.

  I shrug, still staring at the pink drink in a martini glass with a sugar coated rim in front of me. “It’s still pretty new. We haven’t really talked about anything other than work stuff lately.”

  She digs her elbow into my side. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. You didn’t even try to bring it up!”

  Laughing, I hold up my hands. “What did you want me to say? ‘Hey, Blaire. I’ve now filled your shoes completely, and I’m screwing one of the band members.’”

  She tilts her head from side to side. “There are worse things. I’m awesome, so if you’re following in my footsteps, that’s not a bad thing. Be aware, though, that Chad’s not going anywhere, so you’ll be stuck as the PA forever if you stay with Cataclysm.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I say dryly.

  She sips her drink, looking me over. “Seriously, though, that’s not why you’re with Mason, is it? Some weird attempt to be like me?”

  I shove her shoulder. “Are you serious right now? No. That’s not why I’m with Mason.”

  Shrugging, she takes another sip. “Just checking. How did that happen anyway? Last I heard he was being a dick to you.”

  “Now he’s giving her dick,” quips Kendra, making us all giggle like thirteen-year-olds.

  Blaire keeps her attention focused on me, though, not letting Kendra’s joke distract her. I shrug, uncomfortable being the center of attention. Because it’s not just Blaire waiting for the answer to that question. It’s everyone.

  “He stopped being a dick a while ago,” I say, hoping that will be enough. Being the center of attention is uncomfortable. But I’m not surprised when they all just keep staring at me, waiting for me to say more.

  “Uh-huh. And …?” prompts Blaire. Again, everyone’s eyes are on me, eyebrows raised, faces expectant. It’s like Blaire is their mouthpiece and they’re all telepathically connected.

  I look around at all of them, getting more flustered as the seconds stretch out, my mouth open but no words coming out. “You guys were there,” I say to the others, not sure how to put everything that’s happened between Mason and me into words. Not sure if I even want to try. It’s private. “You’ve seen how he’s changed.”

  Kendra’s eyes narrow, Ava tilts her head to the side like she’s considering what I just said, and Sam shakes her head. “Not really,” Sam says. She motions between her and Ava with one finger. “We’re pretty wrapped up in mom life, so we’re not that observant. Keeping tiny people from killing themselves or each other is a lot of work. There’s not a lot of attention to spare for the details of someone else’s love life. All I know is that a few weeks ago, you started letting Mason sit next to you. I figured you’d worked out whatever tension was between you at the start. But I never really knew what that tension was from.”

  Kendra laughs and snorts and covers her mouth with one hand while she chokes on her drink. When she recovers, her eyes watering and the occasional cough still spluttering out, she plops an elbow on the table and points one perfectly manicured finger at me. “Mason thought she was a groupie the night she started. She went to his dressing room to introduce herself, and he kissed her and stuck his hand down her pants.”

  “He did not!” Well, he did, but not the way she’s making it sound.

  All eyes swivel to me. Kendra props her chin on her closed fist. “Oh? That was the story I heard. What did he do, then?”

  I slouch down a little. I should’ve let Kendra just tell the story with whatever embellishments she felt like adding. It would’ve been better than this. “You make it sound like he tried to finger-fuck me. That’s not what it was. He grabbed my ass. And yeah, okay, he went down the back of my pan
ts to do it, but that was all.”

  “But he kissed you?” Blaire asks.

  I nod.

  “What did you do?”

  With a sigh, I resign myself to telling them the whole story, starting with that night. The kiss. The ass grab. Me pushing him away. The piece of ass comment. The animosity. Him calling me every V name except Viola and making more work for me on purpose. The apology. Our uneasy truce where he’d stare at me and call me V as some kind of weird compromise, but how it turned into more of a private nickname and how I actually like it that he calls me V, because he’s the only one who calls me that and how he called me Viola the first night he kissed me for real.

  “Hold up, hold up.” That’s Ava. “Kissed you for real? What does that mean?”

  I shrug. “I don’t count the kiss that first night. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t kissing me. He was just trying to hook up with a groupie. But that night, when he used my real name and kissed me and …” My cheeks heat as I wave a hand to fill in the blank. “Well, I wasn’t just some nameless, faceless body who didn’t matter at that point.”

  When I trail off, they’re all staring at me again, but not expectantly anymore. Considering, perhaps. And I think there’s even a touch of pity in Blaire’s face.

  “What?” I ask, unable to keep the defensiveness out of my tone.

  Blaire shakes her head. “Nothing,” she says slowly, but in the way that means something. She bites her lip and looks at her glass as she twirls it between her fingers before raising her eyes to mine again. “Just be careful, alright? I know what you’re like, and I know what he’s like, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Deflating, I let out a sigh. “I know what he’s like too, Blaire. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

  Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m not a dumb kid. I know what I’m getting myself into with him. And I know that it’s not going to end with till death do us part. And maybe it will hurt when it all ends eventually. But I’ve already promised myself that I’m going to take what this experience gives me—this job, this relationship, these friendships—and make the most of it.