I danced my way up to the desk and air-kissed both of their cheeks. I had no doubt the coffee mug in front of me contained hot water with honey and lemon. Rose would have made sure of it.
As I plopped down into my seat, Jackson came up behind me and pushed it in for me. "You look amazing!"
“You really do!” Jess chimed in. “Almost radiant.”
"Thanks, guys. I'm happy… really, really happy."
Jess took a sip of her drink. "We've met on numerous red carpets. You've also performed with your band on the show before, but we've never gotten you to sit at the desk. I'm thrilled! Thank you for being here."
"Me too, and thank you for having me. I'm so excited about all the new material we have coming out for everyone. And, of course, the tour will be starting up soon. It’s going to be amazing."
The crowd roared with applause.
“Sounds like they’re glad to have you back!” Jackson laughed. “So what’s got you so happy these days?”
“Music,” I quickly replied. Too quickly.
“You sure it doesn’t have something to do with that gorgeous man you now have in your band?” Jess placed her chin in her hands and had a dreamy look on her face. “I don’t know how you can get anything done with him around.”
"She's a professional." Jackson huffed. To me, he appeared irritated with Jess’s opinion of Rhett. But the audience wouldn’t notice the slight strain in his eyes or the tick in his cheek when he grinned at the two of us. I hoped he planned on being a professional today as well.
“I know that.” Jess playfully smacked him in the chest then turned her attention back to me. “But you two are dating, right? You have to be.” She clutched her hands to her chest as if she wanted that more than anything in the world. “You would be an exquisite couple.”
"We're both really into the music right now.” Classic deflection. “He basically pulled me out of my shell and got me to write my own songs. Well, co-write. The whole band has created some incredible stuff."
“I believe it,” Jess said. We’ve all heard “No Empathy” when you guys performed it live, and now it's topping the charts. My husband and I can't get it out of our heads. He's always belting it in the shower."
I squealed on the inside. I knew “No Empathy” was the perfect track to introduce the world to the new Ever James band. Plus, it was our first. The one that started it all.
I have a recording on my phone of Rhett’s face the first time he heard it played on the radio. I’d never tell anyone else, but he cried. Then I cried. It was one the most surreal moments of my life. He has humbled me so much these past few months.
The interview continued, and I couldn’t stop gushing about our new music. I didn’t care, though. I could talk up our work all day because I knew it was that good. Every once in a while, Jess tried to direct the conversation toward “ridiculously gorgeous Rhett,” but Jackson quickly redirected it elsewhere.
I considered thanking him after the show when, out of nowhere, he said, “So inquiring minds want to know…” My stomach dropped at the tone of his voice. “If you aren’t dating Rhett, and we all heard about the breakup with Noah Reynolds, who exactly are you gracing with your time these days?”
I laughed uncomfortably. “Keeping tabs on me, huh?”
I meant it as a joke. Jackson got paid to keep up with celebrities, but I knew I’d messed up when I saw the cat-ate-the-canary smile on his face.
“Of course. It wasn’t that long ago you spent all your free time with me.”
Well shit. Now he'd gone and done it. I could picture Rhett now. Things were about to get ugly.
Jess perked up. "Whoa, are you saying what I think you’re saying?"
“Ever and I dated a few years back,” Jackson said smugly. Jess better be careful. Her eyes might fall out of her head.
"We did." I nodded. What else could I say? "Nothing serious." It wasn’t, and I needed everyone to know that. One person, in particular. "It was fun, but we're busy people so…" It was getting too awkward for me. This was the last thing I wanted to talk about.
“It was a lot of fun.” Jackson was eating this up. I tried with everything I had to send him signals to cut it out without having crazy eyes on television, but either he didn’t catch on or didn’t care to stop. “Remember how I used to sing your songs with you?”
There was a round of ‘awws’ from the audience. Now he was trying to get them riled up.
"It was just around my apartment,” I explained. “He didn't perform with me or anything."
Jess beamed. “He has an amazing voice, doesn’t he?”
I wanted to say he had nothing on Rhett, but then I would be perceived as a bitch.
“He can sing.” That was safe, right?
“Could you perform “No Empathy” for us?” Jess asked, and the audience went ballistic.
I laughed, thinking that was a joke, but abruptly stopped when I saw the expectant look on both Jess and Jackson’s faces. "Wait, what?"
“No Empathy! We would love to hear it live!” Jess stood from her chair. “Unless you want to share a new song with us?” They looked like hungry vultures—if vultures wore smiles on their faces.
"That's… not possible… my band isn't here." I smiled, but I knew there was no hiding how uncomfortable I was. This kind of ambush wasn't supposed to happen on these shows. I’d always been prepped to know exactly how it would go. Everything was supposed to be planned down to the minute.
“Your label sent us the music,” Jess informed me in front of hundreds of people—well thousands, if you included the viewers watching at home. I didn’t even want to think about how many would view this video online.
“There’s no way… Rhett’s voice plays a pretty key role in that song. He also plays lead guitar. Nixon’s bass is irreplaceable, and Jared… you can’t just play a track of his drum beats, you have to actually feel it in real life.” I tried every excuse I could think of.
What did the Media Room at the Hearthstone retirement center look like right now? Was Rhett pacing the room with his hands furiously moving in and out of his hair? Or had he broken his two-week no-smoking streak and lit one up? Shit... he had been doing so well.
I’m sure Nixon was hollering at the screen. He hated to miss any opportunity to perform for a crowd. Jared was probably trying to be the calm one, but I knew his frustrations would come out sooner or later. We loved to perform. Together.
Jackson's arm slid around my shoulders, and he pulled me in tight. So tight, in fact, that when I tried to casually pull away, there was no budging. "We gotta take a break." He smiled brightly into the camera while still holding on to me. "I promise, I'll get my girl to perform for you guys when we return."
Jess jumped up and down while clapping. “You don’t want to miss it!”
I walked straight off the stage before they could even call for a commercial. I was a time bomb ready to explode, and I absolutely did not want to do it in front of the audience. This wasn't their fault.
Lola was the first face I saw. “Call Rhett… now. Ask him what he’s thinking.”
“There’s no time for that.” Keith Spark, my label manager, appeared. “He’s fine with it, anyway. Nixon and Jared, too.” I didn’t even know Keith was going to be here today. He turned to speak to a woman in a hushed voice.
“We’re going to be fantastic!” Jackson bounded offstage and grabbed me around the waist.
“What are you doing?” I shouted, smacking his hands away. “You can’t just touch me.”
“Why, because you are dating that guy?” He looked at me as if he could see right through me.
“No, you can’t touch me because I don’t want you to. And I’m not singing with you.”
His smile was sly. “You always were the best at deflection.”
“I should have deflected you years ago.”
“Ever.” Keith waved his hand toward the hall. “You need to get in and warm up your voi
ce. Cheryl is already in your dressing room. You only have three minutes.”
Funny that my vocal coach was here for this totally spontaneous segment of the show…
I glared at Keith and said, “One day, I’ll screw you guys just as badly as Monumental seems to think it’s okay to screw me.” I couldn’t look at him anymore.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Everly.” My nerves ground together like live electrical wires when I heard my mother’s voice.
“Mother,” I said through gritted teeth. “Back so soon…. lucky me…” Sarcasm dripped from every word. I noticed her lips were a little plumper, her skin a little tighter and… had her ears been pulled back? Dear God, this woman appeared to be checking all the boxes at the plastic surgeon’s office.
“The studio is paying us a lot of money for this little surprise.” Her eyes tried to narrow to show how serious she was about me performing, but the Botox wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t miss her say that they’re “paying us.” I’d have to pay attention to where that money went.
“How could you know that if it was a surprise?” I glared. I could still do that, thankfully. “How was everyone informed of this surprise except for me?”
“Would you have cooperated?” June asked, yet she already knew my answer. Two invisible strings slowly pulled up the corners of her lips. She knew I wouldn’t have shown up if I had known.
I turned away from her. After this tour was over, I was really going to have to reconsider June James being on my payroll. My heels hammered the hardwood floor as I made my way into the dressing room and slammed the door.
As I inhaled slowly through a yawn—the way Cheryl had taught me to start warming up—Rose and Lola pushed inside my room.
Lola already had makeup brushes in hand as she came to attack my face. I highly doubted my makeup had shifted an inch while I was onstage, but I knew it would help to keep her busy so I let her.
“Did you know?” I almost growled at Rose. I needed to tamper my angry around these girls.
“I swear I didn’t know anything,” she rushed to say, not even the slightest bit offended. She knew she was still on probation with me. “Lola figured it out before me. I was on a call scheduling the band’s photo shoot. I wasn’t even paying attention to the TV. You know Jackson has always been an issue.”
“He never got over you,” Lola added.
Cheryl snapped her fingers to catch my attention. "Two-octave pitch glide," she ordered. Cheryl was a seventy-year-old no-nonsense kind of lady. She hardly cared about my drama.
I was making an ‘ee’ sound from my diaphragm when Lola stepped back to look at her work. “Go out there. Do what you do. Outshine his ass. Make him look like a loser compared to Rhett and then walk off. You can’t back out now. The label and the station have obviously planned this, and the audience is buzzing like crazy.”
“She’s right.” Rose scrolled quickly through her phone. “Twitter is blowing up. You’re trending. #EverJamesOnLive #EverJamesSurprise.”
“But what about Rhett?” I asked between the next set of vocal chants.
My door flew open, and Keith's annoying face materialized. He looked far too smug for my liking. "Twenty seconds. Let's go."
I guess that was all the warm-up I would get.
As I walked toward the door, Lola whispered, “I’ll try and talk to Rhett.”
I nodded my head, but grabbed Rose’s arm before I walked out. “Start a new trending topic. Something along the lines of #WeWantRhett. I need that to blow up!”
— TWENTY-ONE —
As I strolled back out, I high-fived the audience members and then joined the two hosts onstage. They announced the end of the commercial break, and I stood there with my mouth in the shape of a smile. Jess excitedly divulged to anyone who had just joined that Jackson and I would sing my song together.
I hated even the idea of sharing this—the very first song I’d co-written—with him. My memories of this song were of sitting on Rhett's bed in Greenwich Village. He had his guitar in his lap and papers scattered across every available space. When we’d finished the last few lines, my head had been on his lap, and I remembered staring up at him in awe. My first thought hadn't even been what others would think of our song, which wasn't typical for me. It was how it made me feel.
I couldn’t believe how attracted to him I had become since that brief time we spent in his tiny apartment. He was so much more than an insanely sexy face. He had slowly started becoming everything I never knew I wanted. I thought I’d had it all, but then I heard Rhett’s fingers on a guitar down in the subway.
Jackson singing our song felt like we were tarnishing treasure.
The first verse was Rhett's, so I had to stand on the small stage and listen to Jackson belt out lyrics that didn't sound right coming from his mouth. Our song was created for Rhett's voice, and Jackson's vocal range was far more limited. I joined in with the chorus, but it felt like we were doing a cover. Only the song belonged to my band.
An ache began in my stomach, one that intensified when Jackson's hand grazed my lower back. I crouched down to emphasize the first line of my favorite verse, and his hand fell away. I circled around, feeling as if I were in a small cage, trying to dodge Jackson's hands as I attempted to look as if I were having the time of my life.
I missed the feel of Jared’s drums, like a steady heartbeat, behind me. The way Nixon's bass vibrated in my feet, and Rhett's guitar in my bones. I badly wanted to tell the audience that they were missing so much from this deceitful performance.
Jackson reached out for me as we finished the last line. It was so blatant that he knew I had no other choice or I would make him look like a fool. I sidestepped toward him and tried to lean against him with my side.
See, nothing inappropriate happening here, Rhett.
I was just side-hugging a guy who happened to be my ex-boyfriend… nothing else. Today, he was purely a TV personality, not someone with whom I shared a sexual history.
I felt as if I were trying to telepathically speak to Rhett. I wanted to explain to him all of the justifications I had for the handsy performance Jackson just executed.
Speaking of getting handsy… Jackson's fingers slipped beneath the waistband on my hip, and I instinctively jumped as the tape played Rhett and Nixon's finale. My hands reached up to Jackson's chest to try and smoothly push him back. He took that as an invitation to pull me closer and then mashed his lips against mine. His arms held me tightly, his microphone jamming into my back while mine was squished between the two of us.
I tried to shout ‘no,' but it came out jumbled. The audience roared and stood to their feet, clapping wildly as Jackson tried to move his lips against mine. With my hands stuck between us, the only part of him I could reach was his stomach. I pinched it. Hard.
He yelped and jumped away from me but managed to play it off with a grand bow. Then he clapped along with the audience. I waved, smiled my phony smile, and walked right off the stage.
I could hear Jess' energetic voice as she tried to describe her feelings about our performance. I couldn't listen a second longer. They didn't need me to finish the show. I was done.
I scrubbed my lips roughly with the back of my hand, trying to remove Jackson’s taste from my mouth. Keith Spark was leaning against the wall when I came barreling through the hallway. “Great performance, Ever!”
“Go to hell!” I shouted, shoving past him. He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less about my dramatics. “And you can take any future solo appearances of mine… and shove them up your ass!" My voice was loud, but I didn’t care who heard me.
Lola and Rose were staring at me wide-eyed as I stomped into my dressing room.
“That was…” Lola started.
“Umm… a bit much.” Rose mumbled. “Jackson is still Jackson. Still likes to create a spectacle.”
“Something Ever used to play right into,” Lola’s big mouth added.
I shot a death glar
e in her direction and continued scrubbing my lips with a tissue. My dad's ringtone sounded from my bag, and I groaned. He didn't understand the crap that went on here. He knew I had once been with Jackson, and he knew I was now with Rhett. Yet just two minutes ago, Jackson's mouth had been on mine on live freaking television.
“I can’t believe he had the audacity to kiss you,” Rose said.
Speak of the devil… Just then, Jackson strolled in through my dressing room door like a rooster entering a hen house. His chest was puffed, and he looked pretty damn proud of himself. I picked up the closest object I could get my hands on—a remote—and chucked it toward his obnoxious face. I missed.
The plastic object smashed into the wall, expelling its batteries and scattering them across the room.
His eyes were saucers. “What was that for?!”
“What is wrong with you?” I yelled. “You can’t just kiss me! On live television!”
“What’s the big deal? You said yourself you weren’t with Rhett.” His shoulders shrugged.
“I never said that!” I clamped my teeth shut and shouted a muffled scream. “And it doesn’t matter who I’m with or not with. You don’t get to kiss me!”
“Okay…” he started. “I can see you’re going to cause a scene.” He closed my door, blocking off my protests from everyone else in the building. Yet he had the nerve to stay. His funeral.
"Cause a scene?" I shouted. "Now you're worried about causing a scene? With that little performance you just put on, you know exactly what you just did!"
“I do.” He smiled brightly and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Oh, look! We’re trending! Everyone is talking about us. They all want to know, Ever”—he looked at me slyly—“are we back together?”
I threw the tissue box.
A box of crackers.
A makeup compact.
A stiletto.
A few managed to hit him.
“Ever! Knock it off,” he shouted at me.
Lola handed me the other stiletto, and I knew if I killed him she would help me hide the body.
I walked across the room and stood toe-to-toe with him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” My voice was quieter now, but it still held every ounce of menace I felt.
Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1) Page 29