Jared cared for me, no doubt about that—but it wasn’t enough.
39
Jared
After leaving Callie’s apartment, I returned to mine, grabbed my notebook and pencil, and spent the next four hours scribbling down words and phrases, imagery, and symbolism. This was my usual process when writing a song. I would brainstorm, sometimes for days, trying to figure out exactly what I longed to say.
Except this time I didn’t have days.
When the words stalled, I played around with the melody on my guitar. I kept going until my eyes were bleary and I had yawned for the third time in the past two minutes.
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window. I had an hour and a half before the meeting with Remar, but before that, I wanted to discuss my idea for winning Callie over with Nolan. He’d been right when he’d said it had to be something big. Tired and clichéd wouldn’t win me any awards beyond the not-so-coveted participation ribbon.
I closed my eyes, only intending to rest them for a minute or two. It wasn’t until my phone pinged several times and then played Nolan’s song that I opened them. I glanced at the alarm clock, and it was like I’d been poked with a burning branding iron. I flew out of bed. Fuck!
The meeting was scheduled to start in five minutes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
Nolan had left several texts. The basic gist was “Where the hell are you?” and “You better be walking your fucking ass through the door any second now.” I assumed he wasn’t talking about my apartment door.
Me: Traffic bad. Will get there as soon as I can.
Now I just had to hope I didn’t actually get stuck in traffic.
Despite what I had told Nolan, traffic wasn’t an issue. I showed up only fifteen minutes late. And yes, I was lucky no cops were trying to get in their month-end ticket quota.
I’m in the parking lot, I typed, then raced to the main entrance.
The elevator wasn’t interested in doing me any favors. I arrived at the reception area five minutes later. The receptionist, a young woman with a short skirt and long legs, led me to the conference room. “Would you like some coffee?”
Fuck yeah! “Yes, please.” In my sleep-deprived state, my voice sounded like I was aiming to seduce her out of her panties. I cleared my throat. “Black, no sugar. Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” She blushed and quickly darted away.
I opened the conference room door and entered. Everyone else was already here, even Mason, who was notorious for being late. Remar sat at the head of the long polished table, like he was royalty and we were just the peasants. Everything about this room made me think of royalty—the expensive decor, the exotic plants, the framed platinum albums on the walls from the kings and queens of music. The only thing missing was his throne. But maybe he just saved that for his office.
“Glad you could find time in your busy schedule to join us, Mr. Leigh,” Remar said, raising a gray eyebrow. Everything about this man smelled of money, including his black suit from a designer whose name I probably couldn’t even pronounce. “Given this meeting was partly due to your dalliances that resulted in a child, I would’ve thought you could have at least been here on time.”
“Sorry. Bad traffic.”
Nolan shrugged an apology to me. He hadn’t known about this any more than I had. We’d assumed the meeting was about the upcoming promo blitz. I should’ve known better. Our publicist and the marketing department were taking care of those details. Remar wouldn’t have called us in for something as mundane as that.
I sat in the empty seat next to Mason. Even our drummer looked less than thrilled to be here. Remar had that effect on people. He could drain the life from you faster than a vampire could drain blood from his victim. But the man was a freaking genius when it came to running the highly successful record label, so everyone put up with it.
“Now that everyone is here,” Remar said, “I wanted to share the great news with you.”
Under any other circumstance, Mason would’ve made some sort of wisecrack. This time he wisely held back. His fingers twitched on his lap, eager to do a drum roll for Remar’s announcement. He wisely held back on that too. Remar wouldn’t have found it as amusing as the rest of us.
Remar’s gaze scraped over each of us, gauging our reaction. “Endless Motion will be commencing the extensive US leg of their world tour April fifteenth. They’ve asked for Pushing Limits to open for them.”
No. Fucking. Way. Endless Motion was currently the biggest-selling rock band in the world. Opening for them was huge. Our audiences were similar, if not the same, which was a definite bonus. There was nothing worse than opening for a band whose music was such an opposite fit that fans actually threw objects, including chairs, at the stage while you performed.
“Depending on how things go, you could also be joining them for a large portion of their world tour. The early reviews of your album have been very positive, and we want to hit hard while we can. We’ve lined up Björn Ekstrom to direct the video for your first single. We were extremely lucky to get him on such short notice. He heard ‘Tangled’ and was so impressed, he insisted on directing the music video.”
The conference room door opened and the receptionist entered with what I hoped was my coffee in an oversized mug. At this point, I definitely needed it. Behind her, a skinny bald-headed man with a red goatee stepped into the room. He could’ve easily been one of the band (minus the skinny part), with his military boots, jeans, and T-shirt. A complete contrast to Remar.
“And there he is,” Remar said, beaming at the man. “We were just talking about you, Björn.”
We all stood and shook hands with the director.
“Ah, so you’re Jared Leigh,” Björn said, after I introduced myself. “Cute kid.”
“Thanks.” I could feel the weight of Remar’s glare directed at me. With the way he was reacting to the news that I was a father, you’d have thought Logan’s existence meant the band was facing a dramatic drop in sales compared to the first album.
Once the introductions were over, we sat at the table again, with Björn at the opposite end to Remar. His gaze appraisingly swept over us. “This video will be hot, no?” he asked in a watered-down Swedish accent.
Mason and I exchanged looks. His lips stretched into a wide grin, his teeth super-white against his brown skin. You didn’t have to spend a year on the road with Mason to know what he was thinking. He was that transparent when it came to women and sex.
“If we get to make out with a lot of hot babes,” he said, “then I wholeheartedly agree with you. This video will be epically hot.”
Aaron and I burst out laughing. “Isn’t it usually the lead singer who gets to score with the hot babes in videos?” Aaron pointed out. Kirk chuckled.
“No way, man,” Mason said. “Nolan already has a girlfriend. And I’m sure Hailey would rip his balls off if he even thought about kissing a girl in the video.”
“So let me guess,” Kirk said, smirking. “You’re volunteering to take his place for the sake of preserving his balls?”
“Damn straight. And I’m sure both he and Hailey will thank me extensively for making that level of sacrifice.”
The only person not laughing at that was Remar. Even Björn was chuckling. I was surprised steam wasn’t whistling out of Remar’s ears. The guy seriously needed to lighten up.
“Let me make this clear,” Remar said. “The song has the potential to catapult to number one. This video will help it get there. So if Björn wants to shoot Nolan having sex with a woman who isn’t his girlfriend, then he and his girlfriend will have to suck it up.”
If what he was implying hadn’t been so serious, I would’ve laughed at him saying “suck it up.” The phrase seemed foreign coming from his mouth.
Nolan blanched, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. The label had already tried to manipulate who he was romantically linked with. He didn’t need them doing that again. He and Hailey had been through enough as it was.
“Does this mean we won’t be playing unplugged for the song’s debut?” I held my breath. Part of my plan to win Callie’s heart involved us playing unplugged on the entertainment show as originally planned.
“No,” Remar said, “‘Tangled’ will still debut unplugged. It was what the show requested.”
I needed to send whoever had made that request a bottle of wine. An expensive bottle of wine.
We spent the next ten minutes listening to Björn’s vision for the video. Fortunately for Nolan’s sake, his nuts weren’t at risk. While “Tangled” might’ve been a love song, the video wouldn’t be too explicit.
“It’s not like you haven’t kissed a girl in a video before,” Mason pointed out after Björn mentioned that while there would be no sex, Nolan was expected to kiss the actress.
Nolan folded his arms across his chest. “I was single back then. I don’t want to give girls the idea they can kiss me whenever they want.”
None of us bothered to claim it wouldn’t happen. We had long since learned that some fans confused make-believe with reality when it came to music videos. If Nolan kissed a girl in the video who wasn’t his girlfriend, then some females would consider it open season when it came to kissing him.
All gazes shifted to me.
“Sorry, not happening. Nolan’s the lead singer. He’s the one who gets to be in the spotlight, not me.” Well, most of the time. There were a few exceptions, but this wasn’t one of them.
Mason opened his mouth, probably to tell Nolan and me that we were pussies. Or to once again offer his services as Nolan’s replacement. We never found out which one.
“As I’ve already pointed out,” Remar said to Nolan, “you don’t have a choice. But if you want, I can always have Björn rethink the video and we’ll go back to the option of making it super-sexy. Remember, over fifty percent of your demographics is female, and they buy into the sex fantasy. And that’s exactly what we’re selling.”
And here I thought we were selling music. Silly me.
Nolan grumbled about this all being fucked up, but that was pretty much the end of it. He agreed to be the sacrificial lamb.
“All right,” Björn said. “Filming starts tomorrow morning. At six a.m.”
40
Callie
Wednesday morning, I watched Logan from the kitchen window as he and his grandfather played tag in the backyard. Even though I couldn’t physically hear him through the closed window, I could hear him giggling in my head.
“He’ll be fine,” his grandmother said, next to me. “Enjoy yourself and let us worry about him. We’re looking forward to getting to know our grandson better.”
Guilt rushed me like a semi without brakes on the downward stretch of a mountainous road. “I’m sorry I never told you about him. I just . . .”
She redirected her smile at me. “I know. You were looking out for him and doing what your sister asked. No one blames you for that, Callie. . . . Jared knows he’s here, right?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t heard from him in almost a week.” Not since he brought me home last Friday, after I got drunk, then sent me the one text four hours later.
“That’s strange. He hasn’t talked to Logan at all during that time?”
Not that I knew of, unless he spoke to him while I was at work. I hadn’t thought to ask Sharon or Logan if that was the case.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s been busy because of the entertainment show tomorrow night.” Which Hailey had told me about two hours ago. The band had flown out to New York City this morning, and she’d invited me over to watch it with her. I’d told her I was driving to San Francisco for an appointment the next day and would miss the show.
I walked outside and said goodbye to Logan. “I’ll see you in two days. Okay? And maybe if you’re good, Grandma will let you watch Daddy on TV tomorrow night.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “Daddy’s on TV?”
“Pushing Limits will be performing on TV live. You’ll get to see Daddy play the guitar. Won’t that be cool?”
Logan nodded enthusiastically. “Daddy is cool.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You’re right. He’s very cool.”
I kissed him on the cheek and hugged him. This was the first time in three years I’d be away from him. Not surprisingly, the thought of that made my stomach do backflips, ending with an unimpressive belly flop.
The next morning, I drove from the hotel I’d stayed at last night to my old university. My appointment with the counselor wasn’t for another forty minutes, so I wasted time wandering around, visiting all the familiar places.
At first I figured that I’d be plagued with memories of happier times, back when I was dating Chris. He had meant the world to me then. Funny how small that world had really been. The world with Jared was more vast and fulfilling. Chris had held me back. Jared encouraged me to not confine myself to what was sitting in front of me, which was exactly what I’d been doing with the graphic design degree. I had been doing it because I believed that was what I had to do. I’d never considered what was really important to me. I’d never considered what I loved.
Instead of memories about Chris, I revisited memories of Jared. Even on the campus grounds, where he had never been before, Jared was everywhere. A group of guys kicking a soccer ball around the green space reminded me of those times he and I had played soccer with Logan. A tree reminded me of the tree house in his parents’ backyard, and that in turn reminded me of Jared’s smile and his heart-melting dimples. A couple walking together nudged a memory, fuzzy until now, of Jared walking me home from the lounge and singing to me. God, I loved his voice. The voice the world was deprived of because Jared hated being in the limelight. Which was kind of ironic when you considered he was the guitarist of a rock band. A rock band that I was positive would be hitting the big-time with their new album.
No way could he avoid the limelight after that.
I walked past a guy sitting on a bench with his girlfriend. He was playing guitar, his eyes closed as he poured out his emotions through the music. He opened his eyes, and the love she clearly felt for him was mirrored back. God, what I would have done to have Jared look at me that way.
He has looked at you that way before, a voice in the back of my head whispered. You were just too blind to see it.
I rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been blind. I had just been honest with myself.
I ignored the laughter echoing in my head. Then realized it wasn’t coming from the voice in my head. It came from the girl with her boyfriend. And that made me miss Jared even more.
I hurried away from them.
After my appointment with the counselor, I drove to my friend’s apartment. She was having a party tonight but had invited me to come over as soon as my appointment was finished. She had graduated with a degree in illustration and was prepared for my billion questions.
I knocked on her door. The familiar strains of a Pushing Limits song leaked from the apartment, and I sighed. I wasn’t going to get a break, was I? I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, I could go for an hour without thinking about Jared. The universe was currently laughing at me and having a great time at my expense.
The door opened. “Callie,” Samantha shrieked. She threw her arms around me and hugged me like old times. Before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. Her place was exactly as I remembered. The tables were cheap and scratched. The couch had faded to a weird shade that was best described as rusty orange, but it was more comfortable than it looked. At least it had been when I used to go to school here.
At least fifteen people were crammed in the small living room. Some were sitting on the chairs or couch. Others were sitting on the floor. The rest were standing. The only thing they had in common was the large flat-screen TV. All eyes were directed at it.
“You’re just in time for the new Pushing Limits song,” Samantha said.
Oh, joy.
“Oh my God, it’s them,” a girl on the flo
or squeaked as the five guys entered the TV studio and waved to the off-camera audience. “They’re so hot and fuckable.”
“And you know this from experience?” the guy sitting next to her said with a smirk.
She shoved his arm hard. “Of course not. But you can tell they are, and I’ve read the fan pages.”
Ah, yes, the fan pages Hailey had warned me about. She told me not to believe anything written on them when it came to the guys and sex. Most of it was made up. I didn’t ask her how she knew . . . or why she’d been reading the comments to begin with.
“I want to have Nolan’s babies,” a girl with a blond pixie cut said. “They’d be soooo adorable.”
“He has a girlfriend,” I blurted out. “And I’ve heard they’re very much in love.” You’re welcome, Hailey.
“That’s too bad.”
“Jared’s still available,” another girl said. “He’s super-hot too.”
“But he’s got a child,” pixie cut said, “and is banging the nanny.”
Nice. Now I was Logan’s nanny. The girl must’ve been friends with my ex. And yes, I did remember his comment from the night I got drunk.
“Shhh.” The volume was cranked up, preventing further conversation.
The guys walked to the black leather sectional in the middle of the TV studio. The interviewer, a guy in his late twenties sitting in a matching armchair, had each guy introduce himself to the frenzied screams of the audience. And based on the volume of the screams, the audience consisted mostly of females. Young, horny females.
If the fans’ reaction was any indication, the band’s new album would zoom up the charts.
“How does it feel to be preparing for the release of your new album, Tangled?”
“Exciting,” Mason said. “We can’t wait to get back to touring again and rock the crowds.”
The guys nodded in agreement while I waited with bated breath to see what topics would have a green light and which were off-limits. My guess was that the do-not-even-go-there list included what had happened to Nolan and his family six years ago, and the recent news that Jared had a deaf four-year-old son. The interview should be about the music and not about their personal lives.
My Song For You (Pushing Limits Book 2) Page 24