by Kacey Shea
A yip escapes my lips and I can’t slam my notebook shut fast enough. Scrambling to sit upright, I accidentally knock it from the cushion and it falls to the ground, pages open, my thoughts on display.
He reaches to scoop it up before I can.
Fear along with a good shot of shame causes my hands to shake so I place them on my hips.
“Hey.” He snaps the book shut, but still holds it out of reach. “I was only joking, but you look as though I caught you red-handed.” He laughs. “You’re not really constructing the demise of the world, are you? ’Cause you’re much too pretty for prison.”
“No, it’s not that.” I try to steady my breathing as I hold out my hand. “May I have it back?”
“Jess, Jess, Jess. Why, whatever are you hiding?” He steps back, darting his tongue across his thumb before flipping through the notebook pages. He stops, eyes wide, and holds the page in front of his eyes.
I want to hide my face. He can’t read this. I never intended anyone to. It’s all embarrassing. Private thoughts that will only make him regard me as some silly, immature girl. And what if he tells Coy? Oh, God.
I think I’m about to be sick.
But like a child teased relentlessly in the school yard, I know the best defense is to play it cool. Act as if I don’t care. As if those words don’t make me feel more open and exposed than if I were standing here naked. “Whatever are you doing, Sean, sneaking up on a poor unsuspecting woman and playing keep away with her diary?”
His smile flashes from behind the book, wicked and bright. “I do like games, but let’s see what exactly you’ve written.” He clears his throat and I brace myself for what is surely one of the most embarrassing moments in my adult life. “Even though I’ve only lived with him for a few weeks, Sean Willis is hands down the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Oh, thank God. He’s making it up. I exhale the breath I was holding and laugh. “I did not write that!” I try to yank the notebook out of his hands, only to discover he’s opened it to a blank page.
“Wait! I need to finish!” He tugs it back, both our hands gripping the paper, and continues in what must be his imitation of a womanly voice. “He’s so handsome it hurts to look at him directly, and I finally understand why critics all across the world are calling for the band Three Ugly Guys to start performing as One Sexy Dude.”
“You are ridiculous.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, but there’s a smile on my lips as he releases my journal safely into my hands.
“Sorry. You were too intense. I couldn’t help myself.” His words, they’re meant to be light, but his gaze is hungry and it only stirs desire and need in the pit of my belly. Dangerous feelings I should not be having. Fear that he might read my thoughts sends my gaze downward to where my fingertips grip the notebook.
“You’re up early,” he says.
“I’m always up early.” I lift my chin, relieved to find his casual smile back in place. “You’re usually not, though.”
“I’ve been slacking.” He rolls his shoulders and shakes his arms out. “I won’t interrupt you anymore. I’ve got a few miles to crush.”
“Running?” I raise my brow and wince. “Have fun with that.”
“I do, actually.” He winks and tucks his earbuds in place. “Good luck with world domination.” He steps away, walking backwards while he meets my gaze. At my puzzled expression he points to the notebook.
I hug it close and laugh. “Wish me luck. It’s my first time.” Oh, goodness. I’d slap my face with my own hand if he wasn’t watching. That came out with innuendo I did not mean.
His eyes widen again with that hungry rush before he bursts into laughter. “You’re a contradiction, Jess. But I like it. Later, friend.” He turns and takes off in a jog, his long legs moving with ease until he’s around the corner.
Friend. There’s that word again, and it’s the reason for my smile as I sit back down to dive into my journal. Only this time I don’t scribble away my worries. This time I make a list of all the things and people I’m thankful for. Number one on that list: my new friend. I jot down my dreams for the future. I know they won’t come true; they’re so far-fetched it’s almost comical, but for now, I allow myself to entertain hope.
Not an hour goes by before I’m interrupted again. The back patio door opens and Tony bolts from Deb’s side until he pounces onto my notebook and attacks with tiny licks all over my face. Giggles escape my lips as I take him into my arms and sit up.
“Sorry, he’s a mad man!” Deb walks down the paved path and chuckles as he gets a few extra licks in before I set him down to run around the yard. She nods to the side of the house, “I’m going to get in some work before it gets too warm if you’d like to join me.”
“I’d love to!” I nod and pick up my notebook and pen.
“Well, come on, then,” She leads the way, retrieving a few tools and an extra pair of gloves from the storage shed at the side of the house. Tony finds a chew toy and picks a spot in the sun to keep watch over our work. Deb’s full of knowledge when it comes to gardening and I soak up as much as I can. Today we’re prepping an area to plant vegetables, and once Deb shows me what to do, she starts at the same task across from me.
“So Jess, what exactly did you do before coming here.” She tosses a weed out of the bed before glancing up at me. “Like for work?”
I dig along the row, pulling out a few weeds of my own. “Oh, um, I worked in a salon. Paz Regale’s in Beverly Hills.” Any pride for claiming Paz as my former employer is quashed by my suddenly exit from employment there.
“Wait. You’re a hair stylist? How did I not know this and why aren’t you dying my hair?” She laughs and there’s excitement in her tone.
I hate to disappoint but I set her straight. “Oh, no. I washed hair, swept up, ran to Starbucks . . . That kind of thing.”
“Is that the kind of career you were interested in, becoming a beautician?” She pauses, working to stretch her arms overhead.
“No, not really. It helped pay the bills, but it’s really difficult to get a job when you . . .” I almost let the truth slip, but Deb’s a smart woman, and her interest is piqued at my stumble. She narrows her gaze from across the garden bed. “Sorry.” I pretend as though my nose itches, and scratch it with the back of my forearm so I don’t get dirt all over my face. “It’s difficult to find a job when you don’t come with much experience.”
“Was that your first time working in a salon?” Her question only narrows in on what I’m attempting to avoid.
“Yeah, I did other stuff before.” I exhale deeply and dig harder, breaking up the hard earth and upending several more weeds.
“Back in Denver?”
My heart sinks into my gut at the onslaught of memories that threaten to push forward. I squeeze my eyes shut before channeling all my effort into the task at hand. “Yeah.” I’m thankful she doesn’t ask for more specifics. We fall into a companionable silence with our garden tools scraping against the earth as the only sounds.
“That’s deep enough. Now try and keep your row even.” She nods to where I’ve gone too far off track, and then to her side where she’s perfectly completed double the amount I’ve managed. “Like this.”
“Okay.” I take it all in and try to duplicate the same.
“So, did you come to LA with dreams of your own?” Deb isn’t one to beat around the bush. In fact, by the way she asks, and what she hasn’t, I’m sure she assumes I’m only here to dig for more than dirt. I’ve been called worse. It shouldn’t matter what she thinks of me. We’ve only known each other a short time, but I can’t help but be filled with embarrassment at the insinuation.
“It’s more for Coy, the reason we came to LA. He’s so talented. He’s always wanted to make it big doing what he loves. Supporting him is enough for me.” I chance a glance up from the dirt to find Deb watching me. The judgment is clear on her face.
“But what about you, Jess? You don’t hope for anything more
?”
Her question pricks at my own fears. At the insecurities that hold me immobile from doing anything other than following Coy from city to city and praying he doesn’t discover I’m not nearly as special as he thinks.
“I mean, sure I do, but it’s not practical.” My answer comes out as defensive as I feel.
“Because of money?”
“Yes, that. But time and talent, too. It’s just not possible, and I’m happy with my life.” I glance around the property and at the mansion behind us. It’s insanity that this is where I lay my head every night. It’s more than I deserve. I should be satisfied. I am. But are you, really? The tiny voice of doubt whispers in my ear and I have to drop my gaze back to the dirt.
“Jess, it’s okay to want more. To have something for yourself.” Deb sets down her spade and reaches across the flowerbed to still my hand with her own. The gesture draws my gaze back to hers. “You are a beautiful, smart, kind young woman. You have so much to offer this world. More than merely being a supportive girlfriend.”
Leaning back on my heels, I leave the spade suspended in the dirt and peel the gloves from my hands, the fabric sticking to my skin just like her words. I can’t get away from them quickly enough.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my place to say.” She stands along with me, her brow lined with worry.
“It’s fine.” I wave a hand to dismiss her concern. “I’m just feeling hot. I’m going to go get a drink.”
“Jess.” She doesn’t buy my lie.
Anxiety slinks into my mind with her show of concern. What if she mentions this to Trent? What if he says something to Coy? Do they all think I’m a gold digging freeloader? Oh, God. “It’s fine,” I say as much to myself as to her.
All of the expectations—to be the perfect girlfriend; to go unnoticed and stay out of the way; to not wear out my welcome—and I thought I was doing okay. I’m not. Not if Deb can see right through me. I sniffle once to stall myself from giving in to the urge to cry.
“Jessica, we all enjoy having you here.” Deb must be a mind reader. She must be. That’s the only conclusion I can draw as she comes around the garden bed to stand in front of me. “You’re special. And you’re the most considerate roommate of the lot.” She rolls her eyes and her lips turn up with a smile.
“I do always remember to leave the seat down,” I joke and she laughs heartily. I’m thankful for her attempt to lighten the mood. “I don’t expect a free ride. If there’s anything I can help with—”
“You’ve already done enough.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it with a smile. “But maybe there’s something you’ve always wanted to do? Something you couldn’t before? Maybe now would be a good time to start. That’s all I’m saying, Jess.”
I search her face for any hidden meaning or harsh judgment, but come up empty. She’s too kind, and her encouragement gives lift to thoughts I only entertain inside my own mind. Dreams I know could never happen. Not really. “You know how little kids say what they want to be when they grow up?” I say, and she nods for me to continue. “Well, I never had an answer.”
She smiles but it’s a sad one. “Maybe you just needed some time to grow up?” She offers me an out, but the truth’s the exact opposite.
I never needed to grow up. That happened all too soon. The real problem is I never got to be a child. I consider telling her but instead I shrug. “Maybe.”
“Or maybe all you needed was a little time and space to figure it out.” This time her grin reaches her eyes. “Look around. You have plenty of that here.”
“That I do.” I point my thumb over my shoulder and toward the house. “I’m going to get that glass of water. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks. I’m okay for now.”
I pad over the lush lawn, leaving impressions of my shoes with each step forward. Proof that I was here. That I took this path. I wonder whether there’s a chance for me to do just that. If my life is meant for more than survival. More than Coy. The idea’s scary to entertain, but I must be changing, because for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m okay with the uncertainty.
14
Sean
From the outside looking in, it’s been a good week. We’re back on track with the new album, and I gotta hand it to Coy; he’s got good chops. He plays as though he’s been with our band since inception, and next week we’ll finalize details for the tour. Our show isn’t over the top. Yeah, we have lights and a few special effects, but there’s no extravagant wardrobe changes or backup dancers. It makes for fairly easy preparation.
But that’s just surface level.
Because inside, in my mind, there’s animosity stirring and every bit of it is directed at our new drummer. I don’t hate many people. I really don’t. But this fucker could die tomorrow and I wouldn’t shed a tear. In fact, wrong as it is, I kinda hope he trips in front of a bus.
His treatment of Jess at the gala is something I can’t put out of my mind. But when I tried to mention it to Trent a few days ago, he told me to let it go. Not your relationship, Sean. Stay away from her. Let them work it out. His dismissal told me more than enough. Same as with checking up on Iz, Trent doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. And same as with checking up on Iz, I’ve ignored his advice. I won’t stop being friends with Jess. Not when I enjoy her company so much. Besides, there’s nothing inappropriate going on between us. Well, at least not in reality. Now, in my fantasies, that’s a whole different ballgame. But no one knows about that.
In reality, I’m no more pathetic than some lovesick fool. I live for her smiles. I look forward to moments of shared conversation. Hell, I even wake up at the crack of dawn to run so I get a few minutes of Coy-free time with her. Those moments are quickly becoming the best part of my day. I look forward to them even more than the times I fantasize about stripping her down to nothing in the back yard, laying her out on one of the lounge chairs and eating her out until she squeezes my head with her thighs and chants my name. Not that I won’t stop dreaming up moments like that, but as much as I want to trace every inch of her body with my tongue, I’m more focused on getting to know her mind.
And yes, that makes me a total loser. I know it and I don’t even care, which only shows how twisted up this woman has me. Only it’s not her fault. She has no fucking clue how desirable she is. Or how I feel, for that matter. She’s more concerned about Coy.
Bitter much? Yeah, that’s a fun pill to swallow day in and day out. Tonight especially.
“We done yet? You might not have a social life, but I do. At least I did a few months ago.” Austin groans, leaning back into the leather swivel chair. We’ve been in the basement for the past few hours going over logistics for our upcoming tour. Not by choice, but by Bedo’s ridiculous standard of work ethic.
“I don’t like to agree with him, but Aust has a point. We’ve worked through dinner every night this week. We need a few hours off.” Trent stands from the table and stretches his arms overhead.
Bedo’s lips pinch together with a scowl and he gathers the loose papers from on top of the conference style table before shoving them into his briefcase. “Which you will get. Saturday and Sunday. Within the limits we’ve already discussed.”
“Bullshit!” Austin yells. “No leaving the house? Again!”
“Unless it’s to the emergency room? No. The tour kicks off in three weeks. You can party to your menacing heart’s desire once we’re on the road.”
“Bullshit. That’s not gonna happen and you know it. This is fucking bullshit! Do you know how hard it is to get laid when you can’t leave the house?” Austin stands up and glares at Bedo. Oh, shit. Homeboy is pissed.
“It’s actually pretty easy for me,” Coy jokes. “Considering my girl is always ready and waiting.” He laughs, but it’s a poor attempt to break the tension. His words only rile me up. I know he’s with Jess, but I don’t want to think about the two of them together intimately.
“What gives, Bedo? We’ve done our time. Iz
isn’t even in the fucking band. When are we off house arrest?” I act as offended as Austin, though I don’t have a real need to leave the house. Not when the woman who occupies all my spare headspace is here.
“Look.” Bedo stands from the table and fiddles with the gold band of his watch. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, because the deal isn’t in ink, but I have a sponsorship opportunity. Big. Fucking colossal. If we get it, it’s enough for all of you to retire and live like kings without working another day in your lives.”
I glance around at my bandmates. Coy’s eyes are as wide as if he’d won the lotto, which I guess he has. Trent straightens his spine but his expression is full of the same skepticism I feel in my gut.
Austin’s the one to speak up. “Okay, so what? You have some top secret deal that may or may not happen, and in the meantime we what? Get tucked into bed by nine?”
“Yep.” Bedo meets his glare. “I’m asking you to trust me on this one.”
“Kinda like I’m asking you to trust I won’t go out and get high off my ass tonight?” Touché. One point Austin.
“If you need to get laid, call a fucking hooker. Call a fuck buddy. Hell, order yourself a sex doll. I don’t care. ’Cause honestly, Austin, this shouldn’t be such a big fucking deal. I’ve got thousands of IPs in my inbox this very second from bands all wishing they could be so lucky as to live rent free and do what they love for a living.”
“I’m not paying for sex,” Austin grumbles. “And this isn’t just about getting laid. I need to get out of here.”
Bedo exhales with exaggeration, his gaze resting on each of us a long moment before settling back on Austin. “I might—I said might—know of a party on Sunset tomorrow. Industry professionals only. You’d have to promise to behave.”
Austin bounces on the balls of his feet and smiles wide. “You can have my first-born child if I don’t.”
Bedo rolls his eyes. “The last thing I need is a child. How about I cut off your balls if you don’t.”