A Love Song for Dreamers

by Piper Lawson

  He snorts. “The Tyler from Vanier wouldn’t have stood by and watched his girl walk away.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “The Tyler from Vanier was volatile. All I could think about was getting out from under the weight of my dad, his resentment.”

  “But you’ve let it go. The past is the past. The things you were, the things you wanted… you don’t owe them anything. That includes this dream of hiding out here alone in the sunshine.”

  “It wasn’t about hiding out. I wanted to fix my hand, get another album done, and buy my security. It was about—”

  “Freedom? How’s that feel? Without the people you love, freedom’s pretty fucking quiet, Ty.”

  Silence hangs between us.

  “I have you.”

  “I won’t fuck you.”

  “Pretty sure you grabbed my ass once when you were drunk.”

  “More than once,” he concedes. “But I wouldn’t try anything because you and my Manatee… you’re it. What we all want. I know New York’s cold with a lot of memories, but you gotta see both sides.”

  I arch a brow.

  “You could be cold outside in New York or cold inside in LA.”

  I stare at my palm, the web of scars on it.

  “A long time ago, this girl told me I had a bright future because of my fate line,” I say. “I can’t see it anymore, bright or not.”

  Despite the heaviness in my chest, I won’t be the same man I was, and it’s not just because of what happened two years ago. It’s because of Annie. She’s made me better, more caring and considerate.

  Like music, she opened me up. Because of her, I’m the kind of person with friends I count on and who count on me. I have people like Jax looking out for me, kids like Shay who look up to me.

  I couldn’t have tolerated it, not to mention sought it out. Once, letting people in was like being scorched by the hot sun.

  But every day, Annie exposed me to her brightness, whether I wanted her to or not. And eventually, I stopped turning away from it and started turning toward it. “And it’s a problem that your life’s not what you expected?” Beck asks.

  “No.” Conviction grows deep in my gut. “It’s not.”

  I’ll always love her, but I want more than a fucking feeling. I want to be with her. I want a front-row seat to every success and failure she has for the rest of our lives.

  My phone buzzes and I glance at it.

  It’s an email from Annie with an attachment.

  I click it open, zoom in on the lines of the script.

  “What are you—”

  I hold up a hand at Beck as I read the first scene.

  Then I drop onto the couch and scan the second.

  After the third I jump up, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Beck calls, emerging from the back of the house.

  I snap my head up and head for the front door. “There’s somewhere I need to be.”

  Beck points back toward the rest of the house. “But you haven’t checked out my future bedroom.”

  “I asked for avocado,” Zeke tells the waitress on the patio that afternoon. His voice is cordial, but his eyes narrow as he squints against the sun.

  She disappears through the doors of the restaurant, past the palm trees blowing in the breeze.

  “Hard to get everything you want, isn’t it?” Zeke leans forward over the table between us.

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  He grins. “The guys said you were at the studio yesterday with some suggestions on the tracks. Glad you’re coming around. You can meet marketing next week.”

  I stare at the burger in front of me, waiting for his food to return. Fuck it. I take a mouthful of mine.

  After swallowing the first bite, I say, “I’m meeting them right after this.”

  Zeke’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m pleased to see you’re enthusiastic.”

  “That’s not the word I’d use. I’m leaving LA and I don’t want any talk that I’m not fulfilling my contract.”

  He laughs. “You’re not leaving LA. You just got back.”

  I mentally review the points that came together quickly once I’d decided on my next move. “I know I haven’t been the easiest to work with, but that’s going to change. You’ll still have input on the songs and production for the rest of the album. But I will record it at the studio of my choosing.”

  Zeke shifts back in his chair, folding his arms, but I’m not done.

  “I will commit to being a better collaborator. Including paying for someone at the label to coordinate promotion, which, as we’ve established, isn’t my strength. In return, what I do on my own time is my own business. It won’t compromise the label or its brand.”

  “Tyler. This is impossible.”

  “The word you’re looking for is ‘unorthodox,’” I supply. “The label’s ownership is in this to make money. You saw that in me. You gave me a chance and it paid off. Now I’m offering you a chance. If you don’t like it, you can sue me for breach of contract, which will be time consuming and expensive and make us both less valuable.”

  He blinks at me. “Is that all?”

  His voice makes it clear he thinks I’ve lost my mind.

  I rise from my chair and toss a fifty on the table for my half-finished burger. “A summary of what I’m proposing is in your email. You can send me any comments over the next forty-eight hours. After my surgery, I’m leaving town.”

  I start for the door, but Zeke calls after me. “Where are you going?”

  I heave out a breath. “Where I should’ve been all along.”

  The door opens to reveal screaming children and a tired-looking thirty-something woman who straightens in recognition when she sees me.

  I rub a hand over my neck. “I’m looking for Jax.”

  “He’s in the yard. Are there any more musicians coming?” she calls after me hopefully as I head through the house, a sprawling, new-looking ranch that’s not as big as Jax’s but still screams money.

  It’s been two days since my hand surgery, and though the surgeon said it went well, it’s too soon to know if this will make the difference I’m hoping for by taking away most of the pain and stiffness.

  But no matter what happens, for the first time, I’m not lying awake at night, willing this to be the thing that fixes me.

  As I head out the back doors and into a sprawling yard filled with bright colors, children’s entertainment, and clusters of adults, I don’t have to ask where to find Jax—it’s clear from all the moms staring at him. He’s in one corner, talking to a man who looks like the only other dad here.

  When Jax looks up and sees me, it’s his turn to do a double take.

  I shouldn’t have shown up in Dallas unannounced, but it was a good thing Jax wasn’t home when I got there. That gave me more time to get ready for what I have to say.

  “Haley said I’d find you here,” I say when I pull up next to him.

  “Usually Hales does party duty, but she’s still on bed rest.”

  The other man takes Jax’s stare as his cue to leave, and I swallow my amusement as I look across the sprawling yard with a jungle gym, a gated-off pool, a bouncy castle, and tables with snacks and desserts. “How many kids come to these things?”

  “Too many.”

  It takes me a moment to spot Sophie at the top of the slide in overalls and a lime-green T-shirt, her hair in pigtails with matching green ribbons. She’s not looking for her dad. She’s focused on the ride she’s on, and her face splits with a smile as she slides down to the bottom, bumping into the last kid—who failed to clear the landing zone in time—with a little shriek.

  The woman who answered the door approaches, her gaze moving between us. “Would you like a hat?”

  “Love one. Jax too.”

  I take two party hats from her and hold one out for Jax. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

  “Please say you came to relieve me,” he states when she’s gone.

/>   “I did come to tell you something, but it might not be a relief.” I take a breath. “I’m going to marry your daughter.”

  Jax stiffens, his gaze never leaving the throng of kids on the jungle gym. Sophie chases another kid, running under the slide and lunging. “Sophie’s a little young.”

  “I’m serious. I’m in love with Annie. I have been since before I knew what that meant. She fucking loves me too.”

  A little boy whose shoe fell off as he tried to dash past us looks up from refastening the Velcro, eyes round with delight. Then he takes off toward his parents, hollering.

  “She’ll always be yours, and I’m not trying to take her away from you,” I go on. “But she’ll always be mine too.”

  Jax rubs a hand over his square jaw. “And if I don’t accept that?”

  My body stiffens as I turn the paper hat in my hands.

  “You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a father. You trusted me and let me into your family. But if you’re going to make me choose, Jax—I choose her.”

  The truth of those words rings through me. I choose Annie over certainty, over safety, over money, over fame. No life I could lead is as full without her, and if being with her means putting everything I am, everything I’ve been, on the line? I’m ready to do it. For now and for always.

  “What about your contract?” Jax asks.

  “Zeke and I came to an agreement for how I’ll finish the album. I also committed to more public appearances, and paying for a PR rep on the label’s staff since I don’t do enough ‘fan engagement’, in his words.”

  “I’m impressed. Did you negotiate that collaboratively or drop an ultimatum on his desk?”

  “Something in between.”

  Jax stares me down. “Listen to me, Tyler.”

  I wait him out, my breathing steady, prepared for whatever he’s about to say.

  He takes the party hat still in his hands and sets it on my head, snapping the elastic down around my chin. “If you marry my daughter, I’m not taking your kids to any fucking birthday parties.”

  21

  “Here we go,” I say as the woman I’ve been on the phone trying to land for the last few days takes the stage for her audition.

  Jeffrey’s on one side of me, Miranda on the other. I don’t look over to see their reactions while the actress performs the song we sent her.

  But I’m sitting bolt upright.

  She’s good—really good.

  When she wraps up, we thank her, and she heads out of the theater.

  “We’re screwed.” Miranda Talbot’s blunt tone has me cutting her a look after the actress is gone.

  “What do you mean? She was great.”

  “She wasn’t right,” Jeffrey agrees.

  My stomach flips. “Come on. She’s a household name. I bent over backward to get her”—even using one of my dad’s contacts, which I’d decided was worth it given the circumstances—“and she’ll definitely get the show attention.”

  We’ve been running auditions at a small off-Broadway theater all day to cast the main roles for our show. Even Miranda refused to miss this, insisting the worst of the reaction from her most recent chemo session was over and tearing up a few headshots from wannabe actors would help her feel better anyway.

  “It’s a no,” Jeffrey says crisply, glancing my way.

  “We’ve identified great people for four characters,” I point out.

  “But not the leads.”

  “There’s another group after lunch, right?” I ask our production assistant.

  She shakes her head.

  Shit. “I could’ve sworn there were more…” I riffle through the papers in front of me.

  Jeffrey sighs. He’s done this a dozen times before, but I can tell he’s disappointed. “We don’t have a lead, we don’t have a show. Frankly, I’m concerned you’re in such a hurry to distance yourself from it.”

  “It’s not that. I love this show more than I thought I’d love anything,” I promise. “But there’s something—someone—I love even more.”

  His face unreadable, he gets up and reaches for his phone, hitting a contact as he heads down the aisle.

  We’ve thrown ourselves into preparing for this.

  I figured today would be more like a victory lap, but it’s turning out to be hell. How can it be so hard to find the right person?

  “Knock, knock.” Elle sticks her head in the door before coming into the theater bearing a brown paper bag.

  “Is that something to numb the pain?” Miranda asks dryly as Elle stops next to our row.

  “Hoagies,” my roommate explains.

  “That’ll work.”

  “You want Annie’s too?” Elle asks, passing them out. “She likes the pain. It’s cleansing.”

  I shoot my friend side-eye. My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. There’s a text from my dad, and the tension in my chest eases just a little.

  I walk toward a dark corner and hit his contact, and he picks up on a video call.

  “Thought you had auditions this weekend,” he says.

  “We do. We’re at a theater right now.” I flip him around to see the space, then back to see me. “Unfortunately, we haven’t found the right actors yet.”

  He frowns. “Don’t give up. Sometimes the best things come from the last place you expect. Like Tyler finding Shay. Her single releases next week.”

  “That’s great, Dad.” I swallow. “Have you talked to Tyler? I sent him something a few days ago, and I hoped I’d hear back by now.”

  My dad’s expression shifts, and I can’t read the strange look on his face. “I think he misses you.”

  The backs of my eyes burn, and I’m glad I’m in a dark corner. “I miss him too. Well, I should get back to it.”

  Dad nods. “We’re proud of you. All of us. Let us know how your casting goes.”

  “I will.”

  I hang up and head back toward Miranda, who has already unwrapped a sandwich and is in conversation with Elle.

  “I want to do this show where the audience sits on stage and I’m watching them from the floor,” Elle’s saying, and Miranda’s studying her with a raised brow.

  They both look at me when I return, and Jeffrey comes back down the aisle.

  “We have one more to see.”

  “Who?” I ask, frowning. Every headshot in front of me is familiar. We’ve seen each of these people on stage already today.

  But Elle stiffens next to me, grabbing my arm. “Holy shit.”

  Someone walks past us up the aisle. I lift my head slowly, tingles starting low in my stomach and spreading to my arms, my legs, my toes.

  The man takes the stairs to the stage as if this were his house, not an audition. He’s confident, relaxed, in dark jeans and a shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal swirls of black ink.

  Tyler hits center stage and turns to face us. I’m so floored it takes a moment for me to catch up when his gaze meets mine.

  Jeffrey shifts into the seat next to me. “Well?”

  I blink. “Well what?”

  “Go with him.”

  I shift out of my seat, nearly forgetting the book before I trip toward the stage, take the steps, and cross to Tyler. I stop in front of him.

  Even under the lights, he takes up the stage, takes up the room.

  “What are you doing?” I shake my head in disbelief. I’m so happy he’s here I almost don’t want to know the answer.

  “I’m auditioning. You sent me a script.”

  My jaw hits the floor. “I wanted you to read it. I wasn’t asking you to audition.”

  His mouth twitches. “You should’ve been more specific.”

  “But…” My mouth works, nothing coming out. “You can’t be auditioning on Broadway.”

  “Someone told me you don’t need your hands to make good music. That it can come from your head and your heart.”

  Tyler cuts an expectant look toward my colleagues. Jeffrey folds his arms, and Miranda smiles broader than I�
�ve seen her smile since I returned from Dallas.

  Tyler nods to the pianist in the corner, who plays the arrangement. The song moves through me, the accompaniment to the song I spent this summer writing.

  Tyler sings the first part of the duet, and I melt into the floor.

  I can’t move.

  Can’t think.

  Can’t breathe.

  Can’t live.

  Except I am living, and his voice, his presence, is the only thing responsible for it.

  Music is a language that makes sense when all the others don’t. And right now, there’s no greater expression of life’s promise than what’s happening around me, inside me.

  Hearing Tyler as the dreamer makes my heart explode. I almost miss jumping in at the female lead’s part, but once I do, I focus on the song and match him tone for tone, measure for measure, phrase for phrase.

  Every verse and chorus I’m vibrating, caught between the stage and the words and the man in front of me.

  When we finish, the final notes of our voices and the piano fading, Jeffrey, Miranda and Elle are all standing silently.

  They don’t need to say it was good.

  Because it wasn’t good.

  It was right.

  It was everything.

  Jeffrey’s the first to move, nodding. “Tyler. You understand we’re looking to do previews in three months, then move it to off-Broadway with an initial twelve-month run.”

  “I have other commitments, but I can fit them around this.”

  I’m still trying to catch up. “You’d have to move back to New York. You hate New York.”

  “I can’t hate it. It has you.” My heart expands.

  “Good. We have a show,” Jeffrey says.

  “I have a condition,” Tyler interjects. “Annie has to do it with me.”

  I can barely breathe through the tightness in my throat. “It’s our show. It always has been. But I’ve been trying to find the right people to play the leads so I didn’t have to be in it. So I could be in LA with you.”

  His forehead presses to mine, and I reach up to tug on his hair, at a loss for words.

  “If it’s our story, it seems fair we should do it. At least for the initial run.”