by Mia Josephs
“It’s an easy choice when you’ve had both. And when you’ve been smeared by every avenue possible, attacked on the streets by photographers...” Corinne frowned, and Heather’s face fell in partial understanding. She didn’t totally understand her past because Corinne knew Heather was the kind to fight harder. Corinne had run away knowing she wouldn’t win—she wouldn’t have won back the love of the man she wanted it from, and she wouldn’t have won a custody battle against him if he’d decided to push. Not to mention that every magazine online and on the stands had marked her as trash. At her lowest, their words had confirmed every worst fear she held about herself—not pretty enough, not famous enough, not good enough…
“How’s Jonah doing missing your sister?” Heather asked slowly.
“It’s such a weird thing.” Corinne let out a breath. Crazy that she’d rather talk about her deceased sister than the man she’d helped with music over the weekend. “Because I’m his birth mom, but she should have been his mom.” Corinne’s older sister who had been trying to get pregnant for years, and Corinne who ended up with a child she wasn’t ready for.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the kids carrying in through the open door.
It felt like yesterday that Corinne was terrified, pregnant, and in LA wondering what would happen. The actual events didn’t unfold the way she expected, and she wondered how long Jonah would keep calling her Auntie.
There were days when it felt like him ending up with her in the end was a slap in the face of how she should have stepped up to be his mom from the beginning. And other days when she recognized the tragic events as just events. Jonah was three and a half when their family was killed—old enough to maybe always have distant memories of the family he should have had. At the time, Corinne was still rebuilding her new life as a yoga instructor and doing the few writing jobs Max found for her on the side. Pretty much the same as now, only for the past two years, she’d been juggling Jonah as well.
“Don’t.” Heather shook her leg. “I can see the sadness pressing in. Enjoy the feeling of your trip, and of freaking Christian Meyer.”
“He’s just a guy, H. Like a lot of other guys only with probably ten times the ego. And with a drug problem. He just didn’t pull it out over the weekend.” But he would. His sobriety wasn’t a sure thing and brokenness only lasted so long. All the years of success with his former band, Kincaid, would start to affect him again.
Once again Heather shook her head.
Corinne didn’t love talking about her couple years in LA, but not everything was bad. With Corinne’s talent and luck, she’d actually gotten noticed when she moved there. And she still had just enough contacts to pay for her small log home subsidized by only a few hours a week of teaching yoga. She was well aware how incredibly fortunate she was.
“Let’s talk about you.” Corinne patted her friend’s knee with a smile. “How’s Dan doing in Afghanistan?”
“Well the contract money is good, as you know, but I miss him. Like, all the time, and I swear sometimes Skype makes it worse. Like he’s right there, only he’s not.”
“No moping Corinne.” Heather chuckled softly. “Not after sleeping with a sexy rock god.”
“And no moping, Heather.” Corinne laughed lightly. “Not with a perfect husband in your life.”
“Fair enough.”
Whatever magic Corinne had brought with her, disappeared when she left. Or dissipated soon after. Chris found himself staring at their notes and lyrics, only the words felt empty. He didn’t remember the riffs until they were played back on his studio’s equipment. The whole thing… Her visit should have lasted longer. He’d gotten the writing back. He should still have it back. But it’d been four weeks of shitty nothing since she’d left.
Max had given him a warning that any communication with Corinne go through him. With how much juggling Chris knew Max was doing for him with the label, he wasn’t about to press the issue, but he was dying to hear her voice. Their contact at xLx Records thought Chris was a lot farther along than he was. Nothing about his album and tour was falling together the way it normally did. xLx Records was trusting Chris, even though they shouldn’t—he didn’t have enough worthy songs for an album, much less a tour. And he was still in a fight with Kincaid over which of the songs he’d written, that he was allowed to use or perform.
He needed Corinne back.
He sat on his sprawling porch, which rested nearly two full stories above the sand, and wondered why he was pushing so damn hard.
“There you are!” He recognized the voice of Lita James immediately and sat up.
She strode across his vast deck as if she weren’t wearing massive heels, like always. Her tiny, twenty-year-old frame was dwarfed by the tall guy next to her. A phenomenon with a Battle of the Bands win just after her seventeenth birthday had catapulted Lita to the top of the charts, and she hadn’t left since—her hard work had paid off.
He’d only met her boyfriend, Griffin, once—all kind smiles and southern over-the-top goodness. Chris guessed he kept Lita grounded in a way Chris couldn’t imagine.
“Have a seat,” he said and gestured at the sprawl of patio furniture.
Griffin stole a couple odd glances at him, but it wasn’t anything new to Chris. Griffin had just been dropped into a world where the people he listened to on the radio became real.
“How are you two?” Chris asked.
“How are you?” Lita asked back as Griffin scooted next to her on the lounge chair. She fluffed out her shagged blond hair, turning it into a mess around her small face—another Lita signature.
He had a moment of decision—tell her that his brain had crapped out? Or lie. Again. “Fine.”
Griffin absently played with the ends of Lita’s hair, and moved around her like they’d been together for ages, and not just a few months.
Lita cocked a brow. “Dates are set. We leave in two months. You sure you’re good?”
He waved her away. “I’m good. Of course I’m good. I’m behind because I’m a perfectionist.”
“You have a lot less to lose than I do.” Lita frowned. She may have been barely twenty, but the girl was a force.
“I totally disagree with that statement.” He chuckled. “You just got started in this business a couple of years ago. I’m trying to prove I’m not drugged out and washed up.”
“You’re not washed up.” Griffin’s voice was strong. Immediate.
Chris threw the kid a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“So. I have the two tracks you did a couple weeks ago.” Lita shifted and crossed her legs. “When do I get to hear the rest of the album? You know this is weird, right? To not have the whole thing done, like…forever ago?”
“I know it’s weird.” There was no point in arguing with her so Chris sat back in his chair, kicking his feet up. “You’ll hear it when it’s done. We’re fine. I think that for live shows, it’s sometimes better to have it feel a bit unrehearsed.”
“I don’t,” she snapped.
There was an awkward beat of silence on the porch as Griffin found something fascinating on the horizon and Chris wondered if he should call her on her age, her attitude, both or neither.
She let out a sigh. “Sorry.”
“Isn’t this something our managers are supposed to be hashing out?” he asked.
“You trust Max that much?” she asked back.
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Lita sat back a little. “Well, me and Griffin have been working on a few things, so whenever you can get together for us to all three play a bit together, that would be great.”
“We’re together now.” Chris sat up again. This might be the perfect distraction from his inability to write. “We can bring a few guitars up, or go down…”
Griffin stood abruptly. “I’d be happy to get the guitars.”
Chris smiled a bit at his enthusiasm. “Great. Follow the stairs to the basement. Bring up whatever you like. If Don is down there in the st
udio, which he tends to be often, he can help.”
And Griffin jogged into the house.
“So.” Lita faced Chris, her small elbows on her knees. “Don’t bullshit me, Chris. Please.”
He swallowed. Hard. “My brain… After rehab… Struggling a bit to get words down.”
“The songs I heard were… They were amazing.”
“They were something I did with help,” he admitted. Corinne’s help. “Not how I wanted this album to go, but a necessity.”
“Tour is set.” And at that second she looked like the young girl she was. Hopeful. Afraid. “Please please please don’t mess this up for me. I’m terrified about switching things up right now.”
And he could see that she was—from her wrinkled brow to the worry in her eyes to the slight frown on her face. The tour was bigger than him. About more than him. Other people counted on him being on his best game and being involved.
“I’ll get it together. I promise.” The words were more for himself than for her.
She shifted and glanced back toward the house. “You sure you up for playing today?”
He chuckled as Griffin stepped back on to the porch and Lita’s smile filled her face as she watched him. He’d never had that—not in the way they did.
“Today I’d be thrilled to play anything that’s not my own.”
“I’m about to play guitar with Christian Meyer.” Griffin laughed. “While we get ready to tour. My life is awesome.”
Chris and Lita chuckled with him as he sat, and Chris liked the kid even more for being honest. Hopefully they’d all blend together as well as they had the other day because trying to write underneath the watchful eye of Lita James was not going to help.
“We need to talk timelines, Chris,” Max said as he stepped onto the dimly lit porch. Once again uninvited, but welcome.
Chris didn’t move, or move his gaze from the ocean—he’d been there all day and was still considering sleeping on the porch instead of inside. “Lita was here today.” He took another drink of his tea. The stuff was supposed to help him sleep, but normally just made him have to pee half the night. He should probably stop drinking it before bed.
“I let her in.” Max paused. “I’m serious, Chris. They’re ready to finalize your tour dates, start hiring crew, and you have four completed tracks. Four. That’s not going to cut it. I’ve put them off for now, but it won’t work much longer. The only reason they’re moving forward without your whole album in hand is because I’ve told them we’re just putting final touches on background sounds and because you’ve delivered for them in the past. Over and over. And there’s Lita. That’s all we’re hanging on to right now.”
The patience Max had held in for so long was waning.
“Yeah. I know.” Chris’ hands shook as he pulled the tea to his lips. One drink. One. Would it help? Give him his life back? His ability to write? His fingers shook at the ache of need he was told would probably never completely go away. One phone call and he could be high. One. So much weight in such a small number.
“What do you need? What do I do at this point? If you’ve got nothing, Chris, fine. But I need to know so I’m not looking like an asshole out there trying to sell you to Carl at xLx Records.”
“Screw Carl.” Chris wasn’t in the mood. “I’d like to get Corinne back down for another weekend. Or at least get her info from you so she and I can talk.”
“Not happening.” Max shook his head. “You wrote a ton while she was here. What’s wrong with it?”
It wasn’t...right. Not yet. Chris set down his mug with shaking hands, his mouth drying out at the thought of lacing his tea with Daniels. “Why are you being such a dick about Corinne?”
Max took the lounge chair next to Chris and flopped his legs up, dress shoes and all. “Because I won’t let you break her heart, Chris. That’s why.”
Chris frowned and finally sat up to face his friend. “Why do you think I’m such a prick?”
“It’s not who you are, it’s what you are.” Max’s tanned face was set in determination. “I know your track record. I know hers. And I’m not discussing Corinne.”
Chris sighed. She’d left four weeks ago. The first week had been okay, but three weeks of not being able to write was slowly spiraling him back to a dark place. “I think I need out of town.”
Max broke away from Chris’ gaze to stare at the ocean. “Look. You’ve had a good run. A great one. Maybe the timing’s just not right. Maybe Lita should move forward without you.”
It was the last place Chris expected to get that advice, but he wasn’t ready to give in, not when what he’d wanted from the beginning was finally in front of him.
“I’m not saying forever. I don’t think you’d be the kind of guy either you or I would like if you weren’t moving forward with music, but maybe a longer break would be okay. There’s this kid in Oregon. I’ve listened to his stuff, and I think he’s worth considering. He wouldn’t take your place, but maybe to add him to the group so your set is shorter?”
“It’s good. I’ll get it together.” If he could just get far enough away to take a deep breath, he’d be okay. “A weekend. Week tops.” In a lot of ways, Chris changing his sound and then touring with Lita was a safety net for both of them. He was determined not to let her down.
Max nodded, his demeanor changing slightly. “Let’s get you to Maui. Four Seasons or something. Sound good? You have two weeks, Chris. We need to have that album done in two weeks, and we’re going to have to pay Don a shitload of money because we’ve just made his job ten times harder.”
Four Seasons on Maui sounded like a different version of what he lived every day, but at that point, any kind of different was better. “Perfect. Thanks.”
“I’ll call Miranda and have her set it up.” Max moved back toward the house. “See ya.”
Chris gave him a wave, and lay back on his chair on the porch. Something had to change.
FIVE
Corinne walked through the kitchen into the short hallway, stepped into Jonah’s room, and snuggled in bed next to him as he stammered through Go, Dog, Go. His twin bed just fit between the wooden walls.
“Auntie Corinne?” he asked as he leaned into her.
“Yeah?” She kissed his forehead, clinging to him hard.
“Can I read good enough to be in Kindergarten?”
She chuckled and gave him another squeeze. “Of course you do. I bet most kids don’t read at all.”
“Okay.” He bit his lip looking so much like his dad that her heart squeezed.
The worst part about Jonah’s dad walking away from the situation was that Corinne knew there was a part of him who would have been an amazing father—if he’d been able to set himself aside. Instead she’d cut off ties the second she left LA. She couldn’t take any more disappointment from one person. The only good thing that came out of her leaving was that no one but Jonah’s dad knew she was pregnant—one part of that mess had been spared from the tabloids.
“What if they say weird things about me?” Jonah asked.
Corinne pinched his cheek. “Who would say weird things about you?”
Jonah shrugged.
“Hey.” She poked his chest. “What matters is what you think of you. No one else. Got it?”
He pressed his tiny lips together to hold in his smile.
“And you have a lot of amazing things going for you.” Just being next to Jonah filled her heart in a way she couldn’t have even imagined before he came along.
“Okay,” Jonah said, his small chin jutted out in determination. The same suppressed smile she loved so much.
“Sleep good, and we’ll get to go to the school together in the morning, okay?”
He nodded.
“You okay?”
“I’m excited to be one of the big kids.”
“And you are.” And it had happened so fast. Her sister should have been there for his first day of school. She should have been around for a lot of things.
&
nbsp; Corinne slipped out of his room and wandered into the living room when she heard a knock. The darkness was thick outside and she flipped on the porch light, in hopes that whoever stood there could be seen from the small side window. No luck. Heather didn’t knock, she just came in. Nerves were followed quickly by fear.
She clutched her phone in her hand, knowing that the police would never get to her remote cabin soon enough for a call to do any good.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m being stupid. It’s fine. Someone’s just stopping by. I’m sure that happens.” Just not to people with mile-long driveways...
She pulled open the door in one big tug and gasped when Christian Meyer stood there, shivering in a light jacket and t-shirt with a bag over his shoulder and a guitar case in his hand.
“I…” She glanced over her shoulder, almost like she expected someone to be holding up a ‘just kidding’ sign. “Wha…?”
“So.” Chris sighed as he rubbed his arms. “I get that this is weird. Can I come in and explain?”
“Um.” She rubbed her forehead unsure of how to register this new information. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. I’m…um…about to do tea,” she stammered. “Do you want tea?”
He did a few jerky movements before stepping around her and into the house. This was a nervous kind of Chris that she hadn’t seen before. And damn him for seeming vulnerable again. She pushed the door closed behind him, blocking the cold air but still feeling the chill in the small room.
“What are you doing here?”
“I… I don’t know.” That broken look again. He couldn’t do this to her. She was not going to fall for this again.
She leaned against the door, as if stepping into her house fully would make his presence more real. “I thought you wanted to explain.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck before shifting his duffel further up on his shoulder. “I was headed to Hawaii and then a flight was boarding to Seattle and I was flying commercial and I didn’t have a checked bag, so I… I ended up here instead.”