“Everything okay?” Shane asks looking down at me, leaning like he wants to keep shifting his weight forward to continue the rest of the walk to the stage.
“Uh… yeah,” I reply, not taking my eyes off of the two men. I don’t know why I’m so jolted, especially after I had convinced myself of the idea that Eli is harmless, but an overwhelming discomfort blankets me and I’m leery of approaching them. Maybe it’s just because his presence is unexpected. The exchange between Ron and Eli looks pleasant enough, as they both smile casually and look between each other and the show. I shake myself out of the moment and remind myself that Shane is wondering why the hell I’ve stopped our route to the stage. “I think some business talk is going on there,” I recover, waving my hand at Ron and Eli. “I think I’ll actually just wait for the guys in the dressing room.” Which means I’ll be bored to death because the guys are only halfway through their show. I didn’t bring my Kindle or anything. I was counting on being entertained by my guys, but my psyche seems to have reverted back to feeling squirmy near Eli. Wish I knew what the hell that’s about; why his presence dictates my comfort level. It’s ridiculous.
Shane walks with me to the dressing room and I’m relieved to find Kelly there, stocking the mini fridge with bottled waters. She always has water and towels ready for them when they come off stage, because she’s awesome like that. I tell Shane he’s off the hook and I settle in on the couch to hang out with Kelly. We giggle and shoot the shit with the faint sounds of bass, cheers, and pyrotechnics going off in the background.
I can hear the finale, the climatic cacophony of drum beats, a crazed crowd, and the shouts of Jack and Matt into their mics, thanking the audience and bidding them goodnight. Moments later, I hear them making their way down the corridor, their voices and laughs exuberant with energy that grows louder as they get closer. I stand up as the guys shuffle into the dressing room looking whipped and sweaty.
“Hey baby,” Jack greets me while he accepts a towel from Kelly. He leans down to kiss me, keeping the rest of his body away from me, afraid of dripping sweat on me. He leans back and puts his flushed face in the towel and scrubs it over his hair. When I look up, I see Ron and Eli walk into the room.
“Hey guys,” Ron raises his voice so he can be heard over the post show commotion. “Eli’s got something to tell us.”
“Yeah, hey!” Josh exclaims when he realizes Eli is here. “What are you doing here, man?” He makes his way over to Eli to give him the man handshake-half-hug thing.
“Yeah, shouldn’t you be in your cushy mansion or your office making some deal?” Chris chides as he raises a water bottle to his lips.
“Well, speaking of deals, that’s why I’m here,” Eli answers, walking to the center of the room and holding his hands out. “I’ve just recently made one involving you guys, and some news is just too damn good to share over speakerphone. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the looks on all your faces when I tell you this,” he leads in with his eyebrows raised and a teasing smile, trying to get the guys on the edge of their seats. I admit, he has my attention. Jack stands behind me and puts his arms around my shoulders. My arms come up to hold onto his like we’re bracing each other for what’s coming.
“You guys,” Eli says, hands still raised and swiveling his body back and forth to make sure he addresses all four members of the band and Ron, “will be playing…” he pauses for dramatic effect, making sure everyone’s breath is bated, “…the Superbowl Half-Time Show!” He throws his hands down at the same time Chris goes berserk, jumping up from his seat and dropping his water. He and Josh howl in excitement, while Matt and I both simply drop our jaws in disbelief. All of a sudden I’m a mouth breather, and though I can’t see Jack’s reaction with him standing behind me, I can feel it. His body jerks back ever so slightly, and I can feel and hear his excited chuckle. He pulls one of his hands away to run through his hair, one of the habits he employs when he’s overwhelmed.
Apparently, this must be what was being discussed when I saw him chatting with Ron earlier, because Ron is standing there, cool as a cucumber with a very satisfied smile on his face.
“How the hell did you pull that off?” Matt asks, stepping towards him, his mouth still hanging open like mine.
Eli shrugs like it was no biggie. “Ran into the commissioner at a golf tournament; had a few cocktails after… I asked if there was anyone lined up, and sold you guys like you’re the cure to cancer. He made a few calls to the TV network, and within 48 hours, it was a done deal.” He tries to come off like he’s downplaying the whole scenario but he can’t hide the hint of smugness floating just beneath the surface. Hell, I would be smug too if I’d pulled this off. Wow. I can’t get over this. The Superbowl is a big deal, and normally, musical acts have to pay their dues for a lot longer than Turn it Up has. This is a blessing of unbelievable proportions. People already love them; their sold out shows speak for themselves. But this is a huge status bump, taking them to a whole new league. At least fifty million people watch the halftime show, which means their fan demographic could broaden.
I turn around to hug Jack, squeezing hard, silently letting him know I’m proud of him and that they all deserve it. He squeezes me back with his strong, protective arms and leans down to kiss me.
After the excitement dies down, the guys start making their way to the buses. There is an after-party at a nearby club tonight, and Chris, as always, is leading the charge. Each guy is giving Eli a hand shake or a backslap on their way out, with Jack and I bringing up the rear, my hand in his. Jack shakes Eli’s hand and thanks him as I stay silent, but smiling. They banter for a moment over this incredible news, and then Jack proceeds to lead me out of the room when Eli stops us.
“Oh Jack, Mayzie,” he begins, taking a step forward with his hand held out cautiously in front of him. “I’d like one more moment with the two of you if you don’t mind.”
Jack looks at me and pauses, before turning back to Eli and nodding. “Alright,” he says, calmly.
Eli puts his hands in his pockets and looks down, as if to gather his words before looking back up to address us both. “I couldn’t help but notice a little tension when you two left my house a couple of weeks ago,” he does a one shoulder shrug as if he’s reticent to be bringing this up. “I don’t know, I just got kind of an uneasy vibe when you took off.”
Jack and I are both quiet for a moment, and look from him to each other. He searches my face and I blink up at him, letting him know to go ahead. I don’t normally need Jack to be a caveman and speak for me, but this is delicate. Jack is the one with a working relationship with him, and I’m not sure which words to choose.
“Well,” Jack looks back to Eli and lets out a breath. “You made a comment that day that made Mayzie a bit uncomfortable. Me too, if I’m being honest. Something about calling her a kitten,” he shakes his head and continues, “and she saw your reflection in the window, giving her a look. Like maybe you liked what you saw.” God, this all sounds so stupid when Jack says it now. I’m mortified, biting my lip. A look of realization washes over Eli’s face as he tilts his head back and nods. He briefly closes his eyes, looking embarrassed. He turns to me and looks me right in the eye, and I see nothing but kindness and sincerity, shadowed with a hint of shame.
“Mayzie, I am so sorry,” he says with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know I have a reputation, and sadly, it’s one that I’ve earned. I know how I come across, but that’s beside the point. The thing is, I like to be friends with my clients. I hate being that stiff agent that keeps things all business. I like the idea of letting loose around them and having that business be on a friendly level.
He shakes his head and lets out another breath, still looking me right in the eye. He looks ashamed, and now I’m feeling bad. I feel like I’m blowing one little misunderstanding out of proportion. “But it’s not okay when it makes someone uncomfortable. I promise you, that’s never what I mean to do. I care sincerely about people being at ease aroun
d me. I feel this ability to relax and let go when I’m around you guys, and clearly it backfired this time. I wasn’t monitoring how I was conducting myself and that was wrong. I’m incredibly sorry, to both of you. I’m sorry for my words, and I’m sorry for the way I looked at you. That was not okay, whether I thought anyone saw it or not.”
I search his face for sincerity and I’m seeing plenty. I’m not seeing any hint of attraction in his solemn gaze, only regret and disappointment. I feel a huge weight leave my chest and tension release from my shoulders and neck.
“Thank you Eli,” I finally speak, not smiling too big, but giving him just a small one to reassure him that I feel like this has been rectified. I really feel like he didn’t mean to make me feel the way he did, and that we can all relax now. This was all so silly.
“Really, Mayzie? You’re okay?” He dips his head and searches my eyes with a genuine concern.
“Yeah. It’s okay, Eli. We’re good,” I look up at Jack and give him a smile, assuring him that I mean what I say. Jack holds my gaze for a moment, not looking totally convinced, but pacified enough.
“Jack?” Eli tests the waters with my husband. “I’m really sorry. Really. Are we cool?”
Jack finally looks away from me to address Eli. “If she’s okay then so am I.” It’s reluctant, but seems good enough for Eli.
“Thanks, man,” Eli says appreciatively. “Thank you both for having the grace to forgive me for this.
“No problem,” Jack says trying to sound reassuring, but he’s still stiff as a board as he squeezes my hand. “Listen, we have that after-party appearance, so we’ve got to go get ready.” He changes the subject to one that will end this interaction.
“Of course, absolutely. I’ll let you get to it. Thanks for taking a moment, guys. And listen, there’s a fundraiser happening on one of your nights off in Jacksonville that would be good for you guys to attend. I’ll send Ron the info.”
“Great. We’ll catch you next time then.” Jack shakes Eli’s hand and leads me out of the room.
He waits until we’re out of the building and in bus city to start talking. “You sure you’re okay with all of that? What he said?” He leans in close while we walk.
“I am,” I say, giving him a nod. “I’m okay, really. I believe him. I think it’s going to be fine from now on.”
“Yeah, but the seed’s already been planted. I already know that he digs my wife and I don’t like it.”
“It’s not personal, I’m sure. He digs anything that moves. It’s not me. Even if it were, he’s got a roster of willing females to get him over it.”
Jack looks over at me, taking me in for a minute like he’s trying one more time to make sure I’m okay. When he’s satisfied, he finally faces forward again. “Alright, but I’ve got my eye on him. And what I said before still stands. If it continues, you tell me.”
“Of course,” I affirm, bringing my other hand to his so that I’m holding his in both of mine. And then I start giggling.
“What’s that about?” he asks, one corner of his mouth turning up as he surveys me. I let go of his hand and run a few feet ahead of him and start breaking into a dance, sashaying and twirling.
“You’re playing the SUPERBOWL!” I gleefully howl.
8
Mayzie
Uggggh. Dear. Lord. After parties can suck it. Last night’s affair involved yet another VIP section in another club, with more people getting drunk out of their tree, on more creatively named shots. Last night’s special were called Grenades. I don’t know if the name is for shock value or because you wake up feeling like biological warfare has taken over your body.
We normally try to keep it low key at these things, at least Jack and I do. We’ve learned that in this lifestyle, it’s best to keep your faculties about you and have your guard up, but I admit we were all pretty stoked about the Superbowl news, and celebrating seemed like a must.
Yeah, I can tell you I took three Grenades last night. Jack and I both kept it to that number. Matt didn’t have any, Josh had four, and Chris… well, he was still alive when we left him in the trenches, i.e., on the bathroom floor of his bus, so there’s that. He was snoring and drooling, and I covered him with a couple of towels to keep him warm. Jack wanted to Sharpie his face, but I had Chris’s back.
Now, to take stock of my own condition and surroundings. I have to pry my eyelids open, but they do function. Two arms, two legs. Head is still attached even if it feels like Styrofoam, and there’s a rock star passed out next to me. Everything seems in order. I dare moving my stiff body into a sitting position, and am relieved to find the act doesn’t make me toss my cookies. Thank heaven for all the water I drank between drinks last night. I need coffee, a shower and yoga, stat. I just don’t know in what order.
I decide that if I don’t want to face plant in the shower, coffee should get first priority. I throw on a pair of leggings and zip up my hoodie before shuffling out of the bedroom, careful not to wake the sleeping Jack. I swear, the clouds open up and shine a light down on the Keurig before me when I near the kitchenette. But as eager as I am for my lifeblood, I stop in my tracks when I see Matt sitting in one of the lounge chairs with his back to me. He has an acoustic five-string instead of his bass draped over his lap and is gently strumming out a tune, obviously trying not to be too loud as he sings. This isn’t a common sight, and the lyrics coming out in his deep, gravelly voice are what have me rooted to the spot.
You torture me
With every postcard
Can’t you see
You’re making it so hard
You’re the one who up and just ran away,
So why can’t you just let it lay?
The words stop, but he keeps strumming, tossing his black hair out of his face as he seems to stare off into nowhere. Whatever song this is, I’ve never heard it before. I don’t want to keep eavesdropping, but the coffee thing needs to happen, so I gently announce my presence.
“Hey, Matt.”
His body goes rigid, but he recovers quickly as he returns my greeting.
“Hey,” he shoots me a tired smile over his shoulder. Like me, he clearly rolled out of bed and pulled on the nearest sweats he could find.
“I didn’t know you guys were working on a new song,” I muse as I close the rest of the distance to the Keurig and fumble in the cupboard for a mug.
He looks uncomfortable, shifting in his seat and rolling his shoulders. “Oh… we’re not. That’s just something…” he stares at the hot brown liquid trickling into my mug like it will bail him out, “something I’ve been playing around with. I don’t think I’ll do anything with it.”
“Shame,” I say, as I reach into the fridge for the creamer. “It’s really beautiful.”
“Thanks,” he says tightly, pressing his lips together and looking down. I’m telling the truth. The melody he was using flowed smoothly, but with an edge, and those lyrics sounded very… personal. I shouldn’t pry, but I can’t help but wonder. I’ve seen Matt with a girl here and there over the last three years; usually a model or an up-and-coming actress will be his plus-one at special events. Nothing ever lasts long however, and I’ve never seen him form a special connection with anyone. I’ve never pressed him for info. He’s always been a private kind of guy, strong and silent. So, as he asks of the person in the song, I decide to “just let it lay.”
When my coffee cup is full, I sit down and take a tentative sip that could go one of two ways. Thankfully, it breathes a small hint of life into me instead of making my stomach roil. I set it down and put my elbow up on the table, resting my chin in my hands.
“Nice look you’re rocking there,” he smirks, his eyes aimed at the top of my head. I reach up and feel my hair, which is fluffed into an impressive ‘fro.
“Ugh,” I grimace as I try to smooth it down. “Like you’re one to talk,” I throw his cocky smirk right back at him while I point out how his hair is matted on one side, and sticking up on the other. He chuckles a
s he futilely tries to pat it down with one hand.
We are joined by a third hairstyle that shows its owner has been through the ringer when Jack saunters out of the bedroom. His sweats are slung low on his hips and he’s bare chested under his open hoodie. Add that to his shaggy bed hair, and consider my panties incinerated. It’s just not fair that the rumpled, morning-after look is so hot on those with the Y chromosome.
Jack gets his coffee and settles on the arm of my chair, resting his head on his hand, his eyelids still appearing heavy.
“So, I saw you two hung back with Eli for a few last night,” Matt prods, looking down and picking at his guitar again. “What was that about?”
I roll my head in Jack’s direction and sigh. He nods. Going through this conversation once was embarrassing enough, so I get to my feet with my coffee. Jack gives me a quick smooch on the cheek and takes my seat as I head into the bedroom, my mind set on a shower.
JACK
“Well this seems important,” Matt observes my demeanor as I get situated across from him.
“It’s not too big a deal, at least we’re pretty sure it’s not. Mayzie doesn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I don’t know…” I glance out the window for a minute. I need to consult Matt about this. He’s been my best friend and band mate for thirteen years. He practically leads this band. I nervously scratch at the scruff growing on my jaw.
Still Her (Turn it Up Book 2) Page 6