Beau huffed in annoyance. Then he opened the glove box and pulled out two small black boxes. We sat silently as he opened both and fussed with the contents inside.
"I can't trust that you will check in at planned intervals," he began. I couldn't argue with him there. I was never good at check-ins. Rhett, on the other hand, looked like he was chomping at the bit to argue. I shook my head at him. "I want you both to wear these. It will alert me if they are removed."
His hand extended into the backseat, holding two black silicone wristbands. They looked a lot like those fitness trackers everyone loved. There was only one small button on the outside. I wanted to press it.
“What’s the button for?” I asked.
“For emergencies. Or if you need me for any reason whatsoever.”
"A GPS device. And here I thought you already had one of those implanted in me, Beau." I laughed, but he continued to eye me without any changes to his expression. Okaaaay…
“Me too?” Rhett moaned. I snickered under my breath when he also received the blank stare from Mr. Security. “Got it. Me too,” he murmured. He swiftly strapped the bracelet around his wrist and helped me secure mine.
“You couldn’t have gotten this in rose gold or something more flattering?” I asked. Aha! I finally saw Beau smirk, even though I knew he didn’t want to.
After a few more rules and threats against Rhett's life, we were released back onto the city streets. We stepped out quickly and immediately resumed walking. No one paid any attention. Rhett looked over at me and adjusted my hoodie, making sure it concealed all of my hair and partially covered my forehead.
I didn't know where we were headed and I didn't care. There was a spring in my step, and I couldn’t stop the smile on my face. Now that we had gotten the all-clear from my security, I felt free. This was the first time in years—literally years—I had been out without a bevy of bulky men surrounding me and a pack of paparazzi swarming around them.
Rhett was facing forward, but I could hear the light tone in his voice when he said, "You're smiling."
“You have no idea what this means to me right now.”
The sun in the city had long since disappeared behind the buildings. I felt more comfortable walking around at night, almost as if I were blending in with the night itself. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I heard my dad's familiar ringtone.
“Twice in one day? Wow, Dad, you must really be missing me.” I laughed into the phone.
"Hey, pumpkin! And yes, I'm always missing you," his deep voice carried through the line, and I was instantly hit with homesickness.
“You know that I always have a plane waiting to come pick you up,” I offered for the millionth time. “Just like I always have a plane waiting to take Mom away.”
“Speaking of… where is your lovely mother these days? I haven’t gotten my weekly antagonizing text message lately.” Dad laughed. While he had been heartbroken initially over the demise of their marriage, he definitely didn’t miss the woman my mom had turned into.
“She’s at a spa retreat.” We both knew what that meant.
Dad huffed. “What else could that woman possibly have done?”
“Forget Mom and her obsession with plastic surgery,” I said. “When’s your next trip to see me?”
"The diner can't run itself, and you know how much New York and I don't get along," he grumbled. It was true… my small-town dad was anti-big city. "And you know I love you, but I'm actually not calling for you."
If he could have seen my puzzled face, I’m sure he would have laughed. “What do you mean?”
“Hand the phone to Rhett, darling.”
My eyes darted toward Rhett. He appeared equally perplexed, so I knew he had no idea what was going on. He motioned for us to turn a corner, and I pulled the phone away from my ear. With the mouthpiece covered, I softly said, “It’s for you.”
“Shit,” he whispered. “Your dad?” I nodded my head. “Did Beau rat me out to your father?” He looked flabbergasted. “Okay, you’re from Ohio… Ohioans like… Ohio State… is he a Buckeye fan?”
“Oh, die—” I started. “Wait… I’m not helping you,” I said lightheartedly, enjoying the nerves I could practically see thrumming through him. He glared at me and snatched the phone from my hand.
"Mr. James." Rhett spoke ten times more confidently than he looked. He listened intently. I could hear my dad's deep voice murmuring through the speaker, although I couldn't make out his words clearly. "Yes sir, of course." He nodded his head as if my father were standing right in front of him. With the hand not holding the phone, he grabbed mine and guided me around another corner.
I wanted to know everything my dad was telling him. What had Beau divulged? No doubt something dramatic to warrant an immediate phone call. I could have bailed Rhett out, but I also wanted to see if he could dig himself out of this. It was his idea, after all.
Rhett’s hand stayed in mine, and I didn't drop it because the warmth felt wonderful on my frozen fingers. He stepped off the sidewalk and reached our joined hands out to call for a passing taxi. I looked up at him in question because I thought he had wanted to walk to wherever we were going.
He didn’t clarify, just continued listening to my dad and responding with short replies. He indicated a location to the driver and went right back to his phone conversation. With my dad. This day was quickly becoming one of my strangest ones.
We made our way down to Greenwich Village, an area I rarely had the opportunity to visit. It was funny though, because if I had to pick an area for Rhett to hang out in, I would have guessed the Village.
Rhett paid the driver and once again took me by the hand, pulling me out of the taxi. As we walked along, I noticed a few people here and there nod at him in acknowledgment, and some even waved as if they knew him. He fit right in here. But thankfully, no one stopped us, so we continued while I tried to maintain a low profile.
I stopped paying attention to the surrounding neighborhood and commenced listening to Rhett and my dad again. "But you guys lost Ezekiel Elliott to the pros, so now what? I hope Meyer has a plan." Rhett laughed. "Okay, okay, I'll give you that one. The Buckeyes are good at that."
We turned toward a building with red bricks and a lovely blue door. He let go of my hand to open it for us.
After a few beats, I heard, "Yes sir, I will keep all of that in mind. Do you want to talk to her again? Okay, I'll pass the phone back. It was nice talking to you, sir." Rhett led us through the door that led inside the building’s vestibule. We stood between two doors as he handed me the phone. I could smell the delicious scent of his cologne, and I wanted to bury my cold nose in his warm neck.
“Dad?” I said into the line, trying to make those thoughts disappear.
"Are you two really going to write music?" he asked without any hesitation.
“That’s the plan.”
From within the building, a little old man pushed the door open, making the space inside the vestibule even smaller. Rhett squeezed in closer to me, causing that damn delicious scent of his to fill every inch of the confined area.
He placed his hands on my shoulders while he made room for the man to pass. I looked up, and he was looking down at me. Even after the elderly man made it through the outer door, we didn't move.
“Is it true Rhett got you out of the house without any makeup?” my dad asked. Geez, Beau’s report must have been awfully detailed.
"Or high heels," I added while continuing to stare up into Rhett’s eyes. He pushed the hood of my jacket down and gently pulled the hair tie out of my hair, releasing my curly blonde tresses. I almost let out a sigh when I felt his fingers glide along my scalp, relieving the ache caused by having my hair wound so tightly on top of my head. I realized then that my feet weren't aching from walking across the city in heels. Is this what comfortable felt like?
“Wow. I gotta say I don’t hate him,” Dad continued. “And I feel good about the things he se
ems to be doing for you. How do you feel about it all?”
I frowned. "I'm not sure." Rhett was looking down at me intently, and I wondered if he could hear everything my dad was saying. "It's a lot of changes, and that scares me."
“I know it does. You always did hate the unknown. But, I say ‘go for it,’ pumpkin,” he responded. “If you wanted to dump that idiot actor boyfriend and date Rhett, I wouldn’t be upset about that either.” He always managed to squeeze in a parting shot against Noah. I rolled my eyes.
The edge of Rhett's lips quirked up, and I knew he could hear exactly what my dad was saying. I shoved him, but not enough for him to actually go anywhere. His chest moved up and down with silent laughter.
"Bye, Dad." I knew we could go back and forth about this all day. He responded in kind, and I hung up the phone.
“Your dad likes me,” Rhett said with an abundance of confidence.
"Yeah, somehow you weaseled your way into his good graces with college football talk." I looked around at the entry of an apartment building. "I'm assuming you live here. So why make such a big deal about going out and being free and relaxed?" I gestured to my tennis shoes and clean face.
"Well, I had every intention of taking you around the city. At the very least, a few rooftops that I like to write on. But…" He shrugged, and I continued to look up at him, waiting for him to continue. "I don't know… talking to Beau and then your dad made me see that maybe I was a bit reckless. And… your dad threatened me with some pretty sick torture devices if anything happened to you." I started to laugh at the idea of my dad threatening anyone. "I'm serious, Ever. I'm disturbed."
“Poor baby,” I said with a smirk. “So you gonna show me your apartment, or do you actually live in this tiny entrance, subway boy?”
“Have I told you today what a pain in the ass you are?” He pulled my hand and led me through the door, past a narrow staircase, and into a hallway with three doors. “Bathroom,” he said, pointing to the door at the end of the hall. “Alex’s apartment.” He gestured to the door on the left and then stuck a key in the lock of the door on the right.
“You share a bathroom with another apartment?” I asked, baffled.
"Yes, princess, some people can't afford to have private baths in the city. And, I'm a guy. I could care less. Of course, I would rather share one with a hot girl instead of my best friend, but it's not so bad."
“I bet you would.” I laughed. “So, Alex the Bartender lives next door?”
“Yup, and Gage and Sienna live a few blocks over in a two bedroom. We’ve been friends since we were crawling. The four of us used to terrorize the Upper East Side.”
My eyes bugged out in surprise. “The Upper East Side?”
“Yeah.” He looked down and shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Their parents are loaded.”
“Wow.” I looked around at the peeling wallpaper and missing floor tiles. “If they have that kind of money, why work in a bar or live in a tiny apartment?”
"Because, they wanted to make it on their own." He gave me an adorable crooked smile. “I’m sure you, Miss Rockstar, can understand wanting to make it on your own.”
I nodded with a small smile.
"And Gage and Alex may have gone to law school, but Gage is currently the only one practicing. Alex is a genius, but it's hard to stick him behind a desk all day. He needs to be constantly moving. Sienna is kicking ass at her job over on Madison Avenue. We've all created our own paths. That being said, Alex's grandma does own this building, so we catch a huge break on rent. But we're making it, and most importantly, we're happy."
I walked past him into the apartment and quickly discovered “apartment” was a generous word for it.
Closet is the word I would use. A very tiny closet. The room was longer than it was wide—barely. A large window at the far end of the room almost filled the entire back wall. Books lined the ledge. Positioned between one wall and the next was a full-size bed. The room was so narrow there was no space on either side.
A small desk and loveseat were situated close to the bed, and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the furniture was. It wasn't cheap and looked as if it belonged in a magazine.
Rhett wasn't a huge man like Beau, but he wasn't small either. The fact that he lived in this tiny studio and seemed as if he enjoyed living here was baffling to me.
“Take that, Four Seasons.” Rhett laughed. “This two-hundred square feet of awesomeness is prime real estate.” I laughed with him.
Scanning the walls, I took in everything that made him…well, him. Above his bed, four guitars were affixed to the wall in alternating positions—up, down, up, down. It was functional art. A large corkboard hung above his desk with hundreds of Post-it notes, all in different neon colors. I would have to get closer to check out what that was about.
On the opposite end of the room was a tiny kitchen. It only consisted of a sink, mini fridge, and two overhanging cabinets. I gasped, and my hand quickly flew up to cover my mouth when I realized what was adhered to the cabinets.
A giant poster.
And not just any giant poster.
It was a giant poster of me.
And not just any picture of me. I remembered sitting on that leather couch without even a scrap of clothing on my body. Well, besides the pair of black leather Louboutin stilettos that laced around my ankle with the signature red leather soles making a small appearance. Man, those shoes were sexy.
In the photo, my legs were spread wide, and in front of my naked body was a Stratocaster we borrowed from Eric Clapton's collection. I recalled the assistant that was in charge of its safekeeping having a fit about me rubbing my naked skin on the backside of the guitar.
The instrument in my hands covered the front of my body. There was only a tease of the sides of my breasts peeking around the body of the six string. My curly hair appeared untamed—appeared being the operative word. Even hair made to look messy took an hour to fix. Everyone told me it looked like I’d just had a romp in the sack, which was exactly what the photographer had been going for.
Rhett walked out of the foyer and into the small room, where he stopped dead in his tracks. “What the fuck?” he demanded.
"Are you a crazy fan? Did you do all this so you could—"
His finger lightly covered my mouth. "Don't you even finish that sentence. I am not a stalker or a fucking creep. This"—he pointed to the three-foot tall poster hanging on the wall—"is the kind of shit that happens when you let your best friend have a key to your apartment. Who, by the way, will get what's coming to him tenfold."
His sincerity made any trepidation I felt vanish, and I couldn’t hold back the laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, chuckles," he grumbled. “You were about to accuse me of being your stalker.”
“Cut me some slack. I currently have three pending court cases for stalkers. And do you think a protection order really does anything to deter them? It’s just a piece of paper,” I said, feeling my stomach tighten just thinking about those creepy bastards. “Even though it doesn’t feel like it sometimes, we’ve only known each other for a few weeks.”
“So what does it feel like?” He tried not to smile, but I knew he was messing with me. “Sorry, I tend to make jokes in uncomfortable situations. That’s kind of scary about the stalkers. Makes me feel even shittier for kidnapping you from the hotel without security.”
“So you were kidnapping me?” I laughed.
Rhett nodded and I watched as he kicked off his shoes. Adorning his feet were a pair of black socks with barbed wire printed across the top. He noticed me eyeing them, so he lifted one in a showy gesture. "I like crazy socks." He shrugged as if it weren't a big deal.
I spied the label on the underside of his foot and jumped up to get a closer look.
"No way!" When I lifted his foot higher to confirm what I saw, I smirked at him. "You make fun of me for my expensive taste in clothes, and you're wearing designer so
cks!"
“What are you talking about?” he asked, looking completely puzzled.
“Those are Alexander McQueen.” When it didn’t look like the name registered, I continued. “Those are about seventy dollars a pair.”
"No, they aren't." His eyebrows lowered with his scowl. I crossed my arms and nodded my head. I knew designer labels. "Mom…" he growled under his breath. "That little sneak."
“Your mom gave you those?” I asked. “Wait a second…” I looked around his apartment at the high-end furniture. His messy bed had pillows strewn all about and a dark blue comforter that appeared as if it were made from the softest cotton. His wooden desk, while covered with stacks of used notebook paper, fit so perfectly into the space it looked as if it were custom made to fit there. It probably was. “I knew this stuff looked expensive. Did you just buy all this?” I wondered if he had used his first advance.
“Nope, this is also the work of my mother.”
“You grew up on the Upper East Side too, didn’t you?! Man, you must hate being reminded of that. No wonder you fight so hard against my lifestyle. You’re trying so hard to run in the other direction. Playing in the subways… living in a closet…”
“No, I’m doing what makes me happy.” He dug through his disheveled desk drawers and pulled at his wild hair. I was making him uncomfortable. Good, at least I could turn the tables for once. “Can we just get to writing?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll leave you be. For now,” I added with a smirk.
“Damn, I’ve never had a girl heckle me for growing up on East Eighty-First Street. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“I’ve never had a guy prefer me without makeup and heels.”
Rhett shrugged. “I guess we’ve been with the wrong people this whole time.”
Noah popped into my head for the first time since he left the hotel earlier, and I replayed the scene in my head where he looked at me like some kind of pariah without my makeup on. I tried to conceal my sigh of frustration. “You’re right, we really should get to work.”
Rhett nodded. “Sit wherever you like.”
I set my bag against the wall near the "kitchen" as Rhett plopped onto the bed. Crouched down, I searched for a pen and my beloved leather-bound notebook. One quick glance at my phone then I switched it to silent. Those thirty-two missed calls would have to wait.
Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1) Page 13