The band noticed that something had changed in me too. They went from joking around with me like usual to avoiding talking to me after I’d snapped some angry remark at each of them one time too many. I was convinced Cory was going to tell me off for being a liability with his bosses and fucking this up for all of us. But he didn’t. I sat with my arms crossed through consultations, staying largely silent and only grumbling out responses when I couldn’t get out of talking. The fact that I had to listen to the songs Chase and I had written together about a hundred thousand times didn’t help my attitude either.
With one day of meetings left to go in California, the band staged an impromptu intervention. They had invited me to go to a bar with them again. And I had said no again. With no excuse again. It was a few minutes after nine, and I was already getting ready for bed. I had been depressed as fuck, having no energy for days and seeing no purpose in either going out with them or staying awake by myself. I debated not answering when they knocked at my hotel room door, but then they started shouting at me, and it was more trouble to fight it than to pretend to listen to whatever lecture they were going to give me.
I pulled open the door and gazed out at the three of them standing in a semicircle. I was wearing only a pair of old sleep pants, so I waited until they grabbed the door from me and walked into my room before pulling on a shirt. I sat cross-legged on the foot of the king-size bed, ready for them to tell me I was a terrible person who was letting down the team.
Dean cut right to the chase. No pun intended. “What’s going on, Cart?”
He grabbed the rolling desk chair from the corner and moved it so he could sit directly across from me. Beau settled himself on the bed beside me, and Ash leaned against the wall, all three ready to do battle.
“You’ve been in a shit mood all week when these guys are literally handing us a European tour on a silver platter,” Dean continued.
I stared at him dead-eyed, not caring what he accused me of.
“Carter.” Beau put his hand on my knee, trying a different approach. “Did something happen with you and Chase?”
“What is this—fucking good cop, bad cop?” I accused, shifting until Beau took his hand off me.
“We want to help, C. How can—”
“Do not call me that!” I cut Beau off violently, practically snarling at him.
Beau inhaled deeply.
“Well, at least we’re sure what the problem is now,” Dean muttered.
“Shut the fuck up, Dean,” I snapped.
Beau frowned and shook his head. “Dean, not helping.” Then, with more force behind it than before, “Carter, what happened?”
“You know what’s wrong. Can you all fuck off now? I’m tired, and I wanna go to bed.” I moved to get under the covers, turning on my side to face away from them and hide the sudden tears that were threatening to fall yet again.
I was so fucking tired of crying. Tired of barely getting through the day. Tired of not knowing what was going to happen and being terrified I was going to lose Chase. That I had already lost him. I closed my eyes and feigned sleep until the guys finally gave up and left me alone.
Chase
I WAS miserable. The first few days after the ill-fated Montauk trip, it was all I could do to get through the day. I tried to enjoy the experience of working at the summer program, but it felt like a façade. I could barely get my mind off Carter. I wondered if he was thinking about me. Were his meetings going well? Was he as miserable as I was? More than once I needed to feign a visit to the bathroom in the middle of the day to pull myself together when my emotions had gotten the best of me.
I missed him desperately, but I didn’t have a solution to our problem. If I missed him this much now, what would it be like for eight months? Or next time, if it was a world tour that lasted a year or more? How would I deal with that? Could we ever have a house together? A dog? Kids someday, maybe? The jury was still out on whether I wanted that last one or not, but not at least having it on the table? Raising children was something I would never want to do without a permanent partner.
Eli pulled me aside when we were packing up after Friday’s session. He was one of the lead instructors for the piano students, and we were paired together a lot. Normally I relished working with Eli; we got along, and he always had insightful advice for the students. But he knew me well enough to see something was wrong faster than any of the other instructors would have.
“Is everything okay, Chase? You’ve been off this week. Are you not enjoying the job?” he asked me.
“The job’s great.” I forced a smile.
“It’s something, though.”
“Nothing. Nonwork stuff. I’ll try harder to focus. Please don’t fire me.” I was a little nervous that this was more serious than I thought. I wasn’t prepared to lose my job this early in the summer.
“Whoa, relax,” he said. “Nothing like that at all. I just care about you and want to make sure you’re okay.”
I gave a small sigh of relief, thinking that would be the end of the conversation.
But Eli was not letting the subject drop. “Is it about that guy you told me about? From when you were young?”
I tensed, turned my back on him, and made a show of focusing on stacking the chairs so the janitors could vacuum the floor.
Eli put his hand on my back to stop me. He sat in the chair next to the one I was getting ready to clear, gesturing for me to join him.
I sat beside him. After a second, I exhaled.
“Carter. His name is Carter West,” I started. “He’s the lead singer for the band Inevitable Thorns.”
Eli raised his eyebrows but remained quiet, allowing me to continue.
“We’ve been dating for the last couple of months. Well, I guess dating is a mild description for it, but we’re together. He’s away now for a week to plan an eight-month European tour with his band. We had a horrible fight before he left. I don’t know how to deal. It feels like I’m not being supportive, but I really can’t function without him. I want to be strong, but I’m so fucking weak. These last few days have proven that. I just can’t do it.”
Eli paused, digesting my brain dump.
“Are you upset about him being gone or about the fight?” Eli asked.
“Both. I miss him. I miss talking to him. I hate how we left things. I want to be happy that he has this massive opportunity, but I can’t get over how it affects me and our relationship. It’s selfish, I know, but I can’t help it.” I considered what I’d said, checking that it was the truth.
“Well, you miss him because you’re not talking to him. Not seeing him is one thing, but not texting? Calling? Skyping? At least if you were together when he’s gone, you would have something.” Eli stated it like it was obvious.
I mumbled my agreement. He was right; I’d give him that.
“I asked you before if he was worth it,” Eli said. “Worth dealing with the absences to be with him. It sounds like you’re leaning more toward thinking he’s not worth it?”
I thought about it. Really thought about it. A loop played in my mind—different memories from the past couple of months. Moments between us. Big conversations. Passing glances. Surprises. Songwriting. I smiled fondly at the images in my brain.
“Chase, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you seem pretty miserable right now without him,” Eli continued, unaware of the path of my internal thoughts.
“I do. I do want to be with him,” I said, starting slowly and finishing with the words flying from my mouth.
I didn’t know how true it was until the words were already out. I wanted to be with him. It was worth it. This argument? This avoiding each other? This was what was awful. I thought back to the silent ride home from Montauk. Being in a relationship but not physically being with him seemed way better than sitting side by side without talking.
“I have to go. I’ll be back in a minute.” I ran out of the room to find an empty office or studio somewhere where I could call him.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed Carter’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
Carter
I PULLED my head out of my ass long enough to get through Friday’s meetings. The guys left me alone. I started to consider how I had acted toward them. We were a team. We had been through a lot together, and I was sure they were freaking out about what it would mean if something were to happen to the lead singer and songwriter when shit was starting to get serious.
The plan was basically set for the tour. The album would be done in a few weeks and would be released in the middle of August. We would do a crap ton of publicity for it, mainly in New York, but also back in LA. Talk shows, magazines, the whole thing. For our first album release, we had been a bunch of nobodies, so having people care about our album before even hearing it was all new to us. The tour would run from September through till April or May. We were hitting all the major cities, and a few strategic smaller markets as well. London, Berlin, Rome, Madrid. Paris. That one stung a little. I had dreamed of seeing the Eiffel Tower with Chase. It felt like so long ago. Another lifetime.
Along with Cory, they were hiring us a full-time sound technician who would tour with us, as well as a merch seller and a bus driver. We were playing bigger venues than we had on the US tour and had more time off between shows, so more nights would be spent in hotels than on the bus. The label was petrified about me blowing my voice out due to the complexity of the music on this album.
The meetings were all completed by noon. All hands had been shaken; all venue contracts were underway. I caught Beau’s arm when we were heading out, gesturing to him to follow me over to a park bench in the landscaped garden of the label’s office. It was time for me to man up. First with Beau and then hopefully with Chase once I was back in New York. I needed to face the music, so to speak, and deal with whatever his decision was like an adult.
“I wanted to apologize,” I started when Beau and I were seated. “I’ve been in a crappy mood all week, and I know you guys were just trying to help.”
Beau made a noncommittal sound of agreement, then asked again, “What’s going on, Carter?”
“Chase and I had a fight. He’s not sure if he can deal with me being away for so long on tour. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us, but I’ve been a shitty bandmate at a really important time for us, and that hasn’t been fair. I’ll do better, I promise.” I tried to be stronger on the outside than I felt internally.
“Oh, Cart. I’m sorry. That must have been so hard listening to the album all week too.” Beau’s understanding and sympathy were more than I deserved.
“Not easy, yeah,” I agreed. “But I want him to be happy, and I know it’s a rough life for a partner to have to deal with. I’m gonna talk to him when I get home. See what he wants to do.”
“But you want to be with him?”
“Of course I do. He’s amazing. He’s smart and funny. He’s caring and kind and passionate. He’s sexy as hell, but so cute and sweet too. And I literally have no idea how we’ll ever put together an album as good as this one without him. He’s a fucking genius with music, and we’ve never sounded this good before.” I was gushing by that point, my heart swelling with each phrase in memory of my guy.
“So work with that,” Beau said. “Hire him. Have him write for us. He can tour, same as Cory or the new mix or the merch girl. The guys love him, and you’re right, he’s the reason why this album is as good as it is.”
I froze.
“Holy shit!” My heart flew into high gear. It was such a simple solution.
“We should hire him,” I breathed, putting all the pieces together in my mind.
He could work for us. We traveled with enough backline that he could have a keyboard or whatever else he needed. He could write when we were in rehearsals or sound check, in the bus, at hotels. We would have the same schedule and could be together on tour. If he wanted to write for theater or pop musicians or whatever, he could do that too. Hell, we could even introduce him to some artists who would buy his pieces. He was so good the world deserved to hear his music. We already knew our label liked his stuff; it probably wouldn’t take much convincing to get them to agree to let him travel with us. Wouldn’t even cost them an extra hotel room.
“Beau, I need to go.” I stood suddenly on shaky legs.
I ran across the garden to jump into my rental car and head to LAX as quickly as possible. I heard Beau laughing at me all the way across the parking lot.
“Apologize to Dean and Ash for me!” I yelled at him over his amusement.
Carter
I LANDED back in New York just after ten o’clock. I hadn’t been sleeping properly, and even with the time change, I was exhausted. As soon as the plane landed, I switched my phone out of airplane mode. I had a number of texts, including one from Beau and one from Dean, both wishing me luck. God, I owed the band a proper explanation and a full apology. I made a mental note to take them to dinner or something once everyone was back in town. And Beau, well, if his plan worked, he could have my kingdom.
I checked the missed call I had and realized it was from Chase. My stomach did a flip-flop. There was no voicemail or text from him, so he must have tried my phone when I was in the air. My anxiety went wild, not knowing if it was good or bad news he was calling with. We hadn’t had a formal plan about what would happen when I got back from LA besides the loose agreement to talk. I couldn’t even remember if I’d told him officially when I was getting back.
The deplaning process took approximately five years. As soon as I was off the plane and on the ramp, I started sprinting around the other passengers, looking for a corner or someplace quiet to call him. I probably looked like a crazy person and crossed my fingers that nobody would recognize me at that particular moment. I saw a room marked Employees Only and tried the door. Fortunately it was unlocked, and there was nobody inside. It was a small storage closet, but that was more than okay with me.
I took a second when I had Chase’s number on the screen, trying to even out my breaths and work up the courage to start the call. I hit the button.
The phone rang three times before he picked up.
“Carter?” he asked, sounding disoriented. I’d thought it would still be early enough that he wouldn’t have been asleep, but maybe I was wrong.
“Hey, Chase, it’s me. Listen, I saw that you called, but I was on a plane. Back to New York. I’m in New York. I just landed.” I sounded like a moron, but he hadn’t hung up yet, so I kept rambling. “I’m not sure what you wanted to say, but I need to talk to you. In person. Please don’t say no. Can I come now? Or tomorrow if that’s better for you? Please. I really need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, C. Now is good. Are you hungry? I can order us some food.”
“Sure? I just want to see you. Beyond that is up to you. I’ll be there in less than an hour, okay? I’ve just gotta get my bag and then I’ll hop in a cab.”
I was so relieved that he hadn’t shot me down. That had to be a good sign, right?
“Okay. I’ll see you then,” Chase agreed.
“I still love you, Chase. I’ll be there soon,” I told him, and then, like the coward I was, I hung up the phone before he could respond.
Chase
I WAS asleep when Carter called. Pathetic, I know, as it wasn’t even ten thirty on a Friday evening. But it had been an emotionally exhausting week between our fight and starting work, so I figured a little self-care and an early night were called for. I did a quick sweep of my apartment when I hung up the phone. I wasn’t a messy person by nature, but then again, the fraught week hadn’t left me a lot of energy to put things away properly. After tidying my hair a little, I threw on a comfortable pair of jeans and a V-neck light green T-shirt. The Chinese food I ordered showed up about ten minutes before Carter said he expected to be here, so I got some plates and cutlery ready and left it all on the kitchen counter.
A knock at the door a few minutes later made my heart pou
nd. As much as I was unsure about how this conversation was going to go, I was more excited to see him than anything. God, I had missed him. I opened the door, and the most attractive man in the world was standing in front of me. He looked so good. He was dressed simply—basic jeans and a black T-shirt with his signature black leather bomber jacket. He had a suitcase behind him, and his expression was one of concern, but he couldn’t school the grin that broke out when I opened the door. He opened his arms tentatively, and I had a sudden flashback to him opening his dressing-room door with the same gesture at the Radio City show so many months ago. I went to him willingly, melting into his arms. My head still fit so perfectly under his chin. His pine aftershave was faint but still did crazy things to my senses. I never wanted him to let me go. I was getting seriously emotional from a simple hug, so I was mildly relieved when he released his hold on me.
“Hey, Chase.” He smiled hesitantly.
“Hi, C.” I matched the look he was giving me without thinking about it.
I moved away from the doorframe, giving him room to manipulate his suitcase through the door.
“I ordered some Chinese food. I wasn’t sure if you would have eaten or not,” I said.
It was so much easier to deflect. I was too much of a coward to jump right into the awkward conversation we needed to have.
Next to Me Page 14