Encore (Stereo Hearts Book 2)

by Trevion Burns

  Shaun sighed as she watched Aria plop her elbows on the table before burying her head in her hands.

  “He abandoned me,” Aria wheezed. “The one person who promised he never would. Maybe this is just my fate. Maybe it’s been my fate since the day I was born, when my parents decided I wasn’t worth keeping. Maybe I’m just completely unlovable—”

  Shaun was out of her chair and around the table in an instant, encircling Aria in her arms and letting her crush her weeping face against her stomach. She pulled her in tight, cradling the back of her head.

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Shaun whispered. “And don’t you ever let your mind entertain that ugliness again. You’re not unlovable. Did you not touch down in New York and get swept up by two people at the airport? Did those two people not have an apartment ready for you to sublet, no questions asked? Have those two people not been in your ear on the phone, or at your front door, damn near every day?”

  Aria sniffled, laughing softly as she thought of Shaun, Adam, and the amazing support system they’d given her since the moment she’d moved back to the city.

  “Adam loves you,” Shaun said, shaking her head gently. “I love you. You’re never alone in this world. Not as long as we’re here.”

  Shaun didn’t pull away until Aria’s cries had ebbed, claiming the seat beside her. They joined hands on top of the table.

  Shaun squeezed. “And you know what, Aria? It’s not just Adam and me who love you. You love you.”

  “Yeah, I love me so much that I subjected myself to that album, knowing it would rip me limb from limb.”

  “That doesn’t make you a woman who doesn’t love herself. That makes you human. Any woman who says she wouldn’t listen to an album her ex-boyfriend wrote about her, and then released for the entire world to hear, is a lying-ass ho.”

  “Did you just say lying-ass ho?” Aria squinted, fighting a laugh. “I didn’t even think you knew those words.”

  The corner of Shaun’s mouth lifted as she reached up and swiped Aria’s tears. “You’ve enrolled yourself in school. Doing well in your classes. Got yourself a gig playing at The Rum River once a week. You’re following your dreams, your heart, your bliss. You’ve even stopped wearing that patch over your eye all the time. It might seem inconsequential, but it’s not. Take it from a girl who’s been through it her damn self.”

  “Shaun.” Aria looked down, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re a really good person.”

  Shaun smiled softly.

  “I can see why Adam fell so hard for you.”

  “Believe me, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes with Adam. More than my fair share. But it taught me that, one way or another, everything will always come full circle.”

  “Thanks for being my friend, and letting me squat in your apartment.”

  “Thanks for giving me the perfect leverage to force Adam’s hand so I could move into his penthouse. It’s way nicer than this place.”

  They laughed softly, the sound floating through the air and soothing them to the deepest depths.

  --

  Sandwiched between two huge Australian men, one with salami breath and the other who’d forgotten to wear deodorant, Yoshi tried to keep a smile on his face. It didn’t help that these two mammoths had chosen the smallest love seat ever built as the spot to have this interview.

  Yoshi attempted to keep from touching either of them while still appearing to have a good time, but as he looked up and saw the amusement on Gus’s and Phil’s faces, he knew he was doing a piss-poor job. The production staff at the radio station that morning all smiled at him from behind their cameras, nodding to urge him on.

  If it were possible, the Australian man on his right leaned even closer. The moment their arms brushed, Yoshi felt his skin crawl. His smile wavered as the salami stench grew borderline unbearable, but he kept it pasted to his face, even as Phil and Gus burst into laughter from behind the cameras, attempting to hide their secondhand embarrassment by putting their hands over their mouths.

  The foul-breathed interviewer asked a question, and as Yoshi went to answer, he realized he couldn’t remember his name. This was his tenth interview of the morning and it wasn’t even noon, so the names had quickly become a blur.

  He tilted his white fedora back on his head and turned to Salami Breath. “What’s the secret to my success?” he asked, making sure he’d heard the question correctly, since he’d been only half listening.

  Salami Breath nodded, but his thin, greasy hair stayed put, slicked back on his head, shining under the studio lights. He was middle-aged and balding, but spoke like a teenager. “Yeah, man. You’ve got the number one album in the country, the number one single, you’ve just been confirmed for the Super Bowl next year, which makes you the first artist in history to do it on one album alone, you pulled up to the studio in an Aston Martin, you’ve got a house in the hills… I mean, you’re just living the life. What’s your secret? How do you make it look so easy, mate?”

  Yoshi brought his microphone to his lips. “I guess it’s because I’m so much more talented than everybody else.”

  Both interviewers roared with laughter, bumping their shoulders to his.

  Yoshi felt the urge to flee, but instead he looked up at Gus from under his mischievous eyelids. He found exactly the picture he’d hoped: Gus with his head in his hand, shaking it back and forth. The interviewers thought Yoshi’s arrogant response was a joke, but Gus knew it wasn’t.

  Yoshi was much more talented than everyone else. He knew it, the world knew it, and the repulsive interviewers on either side of him knew it. Still, Gus had been working with him on humility for months now. But Gus was also the man who’d forced Yoshi out of bed that morning, after a bender that brought him to his knees the night before. Gus was the man who’d shoved enough coke up his nose to wake him up, and then plopped him on this couch, where he’d been suffering through interviews since the crack of dawn. Yoshi could hardly remember how he’d gotten there—hell, he could hardly remember the last five months of his life. So whenever he had the opportunity to punish Gus, the main face on all the madness, he took it without hesitation.

  “It really does get tiring being so much better than everyone,” Yoshi said, seeing Gus’s shoulders visibly collapse from where he still held his head in his hands. All the studio employees around him, however, were doubled over in laughter, still sure Yoshi was joking. He smiled. “It’d be great if the rest of the world could catch up. Try harder. Be less forgettable. It’s mad lonely up here at the top.”

  When the laughter all around him became deafening, Yoshi finally lowered the microphone, giving Gus a break. He was aware that he could spit on these interviewers’ shoes and they would still kiss his ass. He could’ve kept going, but torturing Gus wasn’t as much fun that morning as it usually was. Probably because Yoshi was still lethargic from the rough wake-up he’d had that morning.

  Still coming down from laughter, Salami Breath gave Pit Stains a chance to jump in with a question.

  Pit Stains lifted his arm, making his stench all the more fragrant. “Really, Yoshi, the new album truly restores my faith in this generation.”

  Yoshi was so bored he could shoot himself. “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

  “I love the grit of ‘Kong,’ the suffering of ‘When I Loved You,’ the absolute depth of ‘Howling at the Moon.’ This album is a lot heavier—”

  “Racier—” Salami Breath jumped in. If it were possible, he leaned closer.

  “Right,” Pit Stains agreed, lifting his arm higher. “Your first album had everyone bopping and dancing along—really lighthearted. But this new one is darker, much more sexual, more introspective. Most artists would hesitate to make such a massive jump, but you did it so effortlessly.”

  Bored. To. Death. “Thanks, man,” Yoshi said, trying to think of new ways to torture Gus. “That means a lot to me.” Had he already said that? He couldn’t remember.

  “The new album has p
eople wondering if they should hand you a box of tissues and give you a shoulder to cry on.”

  “The new single, especially,” Salami Breath jumped in.

  Pit Stains moaned as if he were in pain. “Ah, man, ‘Blizzard.’ That song…” He slammed his fist into his chest. “Even I shed tears over that one. Cried like a little bitch. That one got me right in the heart.”

  “It’s just so honest. It makes me feel like this album has to be about a real person. Maybe a specific woman, in particular?” Salami Breath asked.

  Okay, a little less bored. Yoshi grit his teeth at the territory he felt them treading. His eyes fell to the black leather necklace swinging from his neck. He zeroed in on the lime-green string, still in the shape of a ring, that hung from it. Swallowing, he seized the necklace and tucked it into the deep V of his T-shirt.

  Most interviewers thought they were being slick, but Yoshi always saw them coming from a mile away. He knew where these questions were going, and for the first time since they’d trapped him on that love seat, his heart thundered against his ribs.

  “Is the album about anyone in particular?” Yoshi frowned. “Absolutely.”

  “But you’re still with Carmen Rodriguez, right? You’ve been with her since album one. And there’s never been a public spat between you two. Perhaps a little trouble in paradise? Behind closed doors?”

  Perhaps that was none of his fucking business. Yoshi opened his mouth to say just that.

  Pit Stains jumped in before he could. “Some people think it’s an apology album. Some people think it’s a ‘fuck you’ album. Why don’t you set the record straight, Yoshi?”

  “Oh, definitely a ‘fuck you’ album. For sure.” Yoshi gave the first honest answer he had all morning. “And no, it isn’t about Carmen. She’s great.”

  “So, a woman from your distant past?” Pit Stains pried.

  “Ah…” Yoshi went to answer, then realized most of the words lingering on the tip of his tongue wouldn’t fly on network TV.

  Sensing hesitation, Salami Breath jumped in. “We won’t pry, we won’t pry. That’s not our style here at KLAV.”

  “I appreciate that, man,” Yoshi said, happy for an out. He wasn’t unaware of the new clip in his voice, the new thundering in his chest, or the new bounce of his knees. He tried to stop them from bopping, but couldn’t. He leaned forward when the combination of their scents suddenly became heave-inducing.

  Of course, Pit Stains leaned with him. He rested his elbows on his knees.

  Yoshi nearly passed out as his scent went from zero to a hundred in two seconds. How was it possible that this man couldn’t smell himself?

  “Let’s talk about the Super Bowl,” Pit Stains said, after referring to a notecard in his hand.

  “Yeah,” Yoshi replied. “I’m excited about that.”

  “A lot of negativity flying your way though. Lot of naysayers. People are saying you’re too new. It’s too soon. You don’t have the experience to pull it off.”

  “You know what, Pit Sta—” Yoshi stopped himself, realizing he’d been on the verge of calling him by the nickname he didn’t know he had. He racked his brain for this smelly bastard’s real name, but came up short. “You know what… I don’t pay attention to negativity. I can’t. If I took to heart every ugly, negative thing people said about me, I wouldn’t get any sleep at night.”

  “So, I take it you don’t Google yourself?” Salami Breath asked.

  Yoshi’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not. Are you kidding me? People say terrible things, man. Google myself? I’d put a bullet in my head before the day was out.”

  Gus’s head was back in his hands. It made Yoshi’s heart sing.

  Pit Stains and Salami Breath laughed boisterously.

  “Well, Yoshi, the Super Bowl is a lot of pressure, but you’ve more than proven that you do well under pressure. They said the second album couldn’t possibly do as well as the first, and look at you…”

  “Look at me,” Yoshi said, holding his hands out and smiling widely at Gus, who glared in return.

  “Straight to number one.” Salami Breath laughed. “You didn’t even try. The reviews flying in are glowing, and with good reason.”

  “Like I said.” Yoshi met Gus’s eyes. “It’s lonely up here at the top.”

  They howled with laughter again, and then Pit Stains shoved Yoshi as if they were old friends before offering his hand. “Well, Yoshi, it looks like we’re out of time.”

  Thank God. “Already, man? That was too fast.” Yoshi shook his hand, noting how clammy it was.

  He turned to Salami Breath and shook his hand as well.

  One interview down.

  Five trillion to go.

  --

  “I found Aria. She’s living in Shaun Green’s old apartment in Manhattan. Subletting it since Shaun and Adam live together now.”

  Yoshi met Gus’s eyes in the dressing room’s vanity mirror. He didn’t miss the way Becky paused in the middle of doing his makeup. Surely she was waiting for the meltdown that often followed the sound of Aria’s name leaving anyone’s mouth on the tour. In the five months the show had been going on without her, Yoshi’s crew had quickly learned that her name was completely off-limits.

  But that time, Yoshi remained silent, just watching Gus in the reflection.

  Gus held up a piece of paper. “I wrote down her address—”

  “Why would I want her address?” Yoshi interrupted.

  Becky pressed her lips together.

  Gus sighed. “Well, a few months ago, you would’ve done anything for this address.”

  “Right. A few months ago. A few months ago, that information might’ve meant something to me. But I’m done looking for people who don’t want to be found. I’m done chasing people who don’t want to be caught. She abandoned me. Fuck her. And fuck him too,” Yoshi said, pointing in the mirror at Gus.

  Gus didn’t have to ask who ‘him’ was. His jaw tightened as he thought of Yoshi’s father, who he’d met five months earlier. Who’d refused an all-expenses paid vacation to meet the son he’d given up so many years ago. Still unable to wrap his mind around it, Gus shook his head, as if trying to get the thought out of his mind.

  Yoshi shifted in his seat, huffing through his nostrils. “Did you pay him yet?”

  Gus nodded. “Yeah. He handed over all the videos. You won’t be surprised by another one again. Except for the ones he’s already sold.”

  “How much did he ask for?”

  “Common, Yosh….”

  “How much?”

  Gus sighed. “Five hundred thousand.”

  Yoshi let that sink in. He’d told Gus that no number was too high. To just write the check. To do whatever he needed to do to get Yoshi’s childhood videos out of his father’s hands. After being surprised by the videos during one talk show too many, he’d had enough. The dark place they took him had finally become intolerable.

  “So that’s what I’m worth to him, huh?” Yoshi chuckled. “If only he’d been smart enough to meet me face-to-face, I’d have given him a lot more. I suppose pretending to be a father would’ve been too much work, though. Much easier to just take the money and run.”

  Now both Gus and Becky were tight-lipped. The air in the room was taut too, and narrowing more by the second.

  “Fuck him, Yosh. He’s not worth it.” Gus lifted the paper he still clutched in his hand. “But, and I know you hate this, but I’m still of the opinion that this is a huge misunderstanding with Aria.” He spoke hurriedly. “And I know you asked me to stop looking for her. I know you say you don’t give a shit, but… It’s just way too strange. I saw the connection you two had. For her to just up and leave—”

  “Gus,” Yoshi barked, holding his hands out and looking up at Gus from under his eyelids. “I have a show in less than half an hour. I have to be on for twenty thousand people in less than half an hour. Even if I were interested in that address, I’m in Australia for the next three weeks. Trapped on this godforsaken to
ur, under this fucking contract, for another six months, so please stop tearing me down. Please stop saying her fucking name to me.”

  “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Gus held his hands up, meaning his words. The last time he’d discussed Aria with Yoshi right before the show, Yoshi had a meltdown onstage. One of the fans in the first row had managed to reach out and touch his ankle, and something in Yoshi had broken apart. He’d berated the girl, accused her of treating him like an animal in a zoo, and then walked offstage completely. It had made every paper. His PR team had lost weeks of sleep cleaning that mess up.

  With a sigh, Gus approached the table and pressed the paper in his hand on top, apologizing again. He left it on the table before taking a small step back.

  Yoshi stared down at the paper, and the address written on top of it, before lifting his gaze to Gus again, but he didn’t say anything.

  Without another word, Gus turned on his heel and left the room.

  Gus felt Yoshi’s eyes burning a hole in his back, watching him go, and he knew, without looking, that Yoshi had already pocketed the paper.

  19

  “Yoshi, it’s sloppy. I need you to give a shit about what you’re doing. I need you to try harder. It’s sloppy, and you know it.”

  Hands stuck on his hips, chest heaving and feeling on the verge of death, Yoshi waited until his choreographer, Wade, had turned away from the mirrored wall of the dance studio to flip him the bird. He kept his middle finger up, letting it burn into Wade’s back during his journey to the corner of studio, where he bent down to riffle through his bag.

  Behind Yoshi, the dancers he’d handpicked to join him on stage for his Super Bowl performance sniggered, promoting Wade to shoot him a look over his shoulder.

  Yoshi dropped the vile finger in a flash, straightening.

  “Let’s take five,” Wade said, pointing to Yoshi after swiping a water bottle up from his bag. “When I get back, we’re going to do it again, and again, and again, until it’s fucking perfect.”