by R. M. Lynn
Alivia has the clementine peeled by the time I bring Lucy her cup. I give Alivia a quiet thank you and brush Lucy’s hair away from her face as she puts a piece of fruit in her mouth.
“So, I put together some lyrics, and I want you to take a look,” I tell Alivia. “She’s going to go down for a nap when we’re done here, so we can work on it then.”
“No nap,” Lucy snaps up at me, her mouth full of fruit. “I don’t need a nap!”
“Baby, we talked about this. You’re not going to argue with me,” I tell her.
“Daddy,” she whines.
I shake my head at her and murmur, “Lucy, finish your snack, and we’ll go upstairs. I don’t want to hear any of it.”
She doesn’t whine about it anymore, just quietly finishes her clementine. Alivia watches her with a small smile on her face and seems overjoyed when Lucy asks her to come up to her room with us. We head up together, and Lucy immediately starts showing Alivia every little aspect of her bedroom, from her toy box to her bed to her Elsa nightlight.
I have her hop into bed, and I start a movie, the cartoon beginning to play on the small TV screen on her dresser across from her bed. I wrap her up in a blanket and press a kiss to her forehead before following Alivia out of the bedroom. We head back down to the living room after I grab my guitar, and she sits on the couch looking at me.
“She’s super cute,” Alivia murmurs to me.
“Yeah,” I reply with a smile. “She’s something.”
She averts her eyes and mutters, “So, should we get started?”
I give a nod and sit down next to her. I’m not sure how long we’re there, but I know we’re there long enough for Lucy to wake up from her nap. After she’s fed, she decides to go outside, so Alivia and I pack up our work and move it to the deck while Lucy sprints for the playset I had built about a year ago. We have most of the song written, but I feel there is something missing when it’s just me singing the words.
I stop strumming guitar half way through the song, look up at Alivia, and announce, “This needs more. I don’t like how this sounds.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she argues.
I pass the lyrics to her, point to a section of the song, and reply, “Sing this part here.”
“No way,” she retorts. “This is Violet Lane’s song. I can’t be on it.”
“Just sing it,” I order softly. “I need to hear it.”
She sighs heavily, and grumbles, “Fine. Play.”
I begin to strum the guitar, sing through the song, but I stop when the part I want her to sing begins. I listen to her as she sings every word, wondering if she means any of the words she’s singing about loving someone deeply. When she ends her part, I take over and finish the song. Grabbing the pen, I write on the paper indicating a female vocalist is needed.
“Okay, I want to try it this way now, so bear with me,” I murmur. “This part here,” I point, “I want to sing with you. We can pull together this story, from both sides, like you suggested we do before.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
I give a small nod and begin to play. She sings with me where I indicated, and I savor the sound of our voices singing together. She keeps her eyes down casted at the paper when singing, but my eyes stay locked to her. When the song comes to a complete once again, I smile at her.
“Don’t say it,” she snaps like she can read my mind.
“What am I going to say?” I ask, my grin widening.
Her hurricane eyes meet mine, and she replies, “I’m not singing on the album. It’s a no.”
“How come?” I argue. “You hear how great we sound together. We both know who’s story you’re telling anyway. Why can’t it be you to share it? We can do this for every song on the album. It’s exactly what the label wants from me, something a bit different.”
“Kyler,” she mutters with a shake of her head. “That’s asking a lot. I like my privacy.”
“Think about it then,” I say softly. “We can keep your name as the writer only. It doesn’t have to feature. I want you on this, Liv, and I’m going to fight the whole way to get you there.”
“I’ll think about it,” she agrees finally.
I give her a smile, knowing I’d get my way eventually. Alivia was going to be on this album. I’d make sure of it.
◆◆◆
It took another month and a half to complete the album. We had a lot of songs already ready before Alivia came in, so all we needed to do was record the ones she wrote for us. She sang on five of eleven songs on the album. Grudgingly but nonetheless, she did it. With it came a lot of press as well for her. On more than a few occasions, she’d call me about paparazzi waiting for her outside the coffee shop she was at. I know she was getting calls from other labels as well wanting her to write for their next up and coming star.
That Friday night, Violet Lane is expected to attend the album release party where our next tour will be revealed to the public. Convincing Alivia to attend has been tougher than convincing Lucy to let me sing a different bedtime song. I stand in my kitchen on my phone with Alivia, all but begging her to come. Lucy plays in the living room with some of her baby dolls while my mom scurries around me getting things out for dinner. My step-father sits at the kitchen table with Noah talking business about Violet Lane.
“Liv,” I murmur into the phone. “Don’t make me beg. You need to be there.”
“Kyler, I simply do not want to go,” she answers mockingly.
I roll my eyes. “Everybody lives for this type of opportunity. All you have to do is show up. The biggest names in the industry will be there, and don’t you want to have the opportunity to get your name out there further?”
I hear her sigh before replying quietly, “I don’t even know what I’d wear. I’m not exactly the type.”
“I can get Holly to bring you a few things,” I assure her. “Just pick whatever you want.”
“I can buy my own dress,” she insists.
I smirk to myself and say, “Oh, I know you can. I helped write your check, sweetheart. I want you to come, though. So, if need be, I can help with the dress.”
“Fine, I will do it. Mackenzie is calling me, so I’m going to go,” she says quickly.
“Call me back,” I tell her before she hangs up on me.
“So, is she coming?” Noah asks from the table.
I shrug and say, “She will if I have anything to do with it.”
“Honey, maybe try being less aggressive,” my mother advises as she digs in the fridge.
I roll my eyes and ignore her, look to Noah and ask, “What time is the car coming?”
“About nine, I think, depending on if Dylan comes here first or gets picked up at his place,” Noah answers. “Have you heard from him?”
I shake my head just as my phone begins to ring. Alivia’s name flashes on my screen, and I answer quickly.
“Make a decision?” I ask into the phone.
I can picture her rolling her eyes as she replies, “You’re so pushy. I’ll go. I need the address. You’ll also have to tell me where to park.”
“We can pick you up,” I tell her. “We have a car.”
“Okay,” she murmurs. “This is black tie, right? I really have to go all out?”
“Yeah, Liv, all out,” I say softly. “I hope you’re looking forward to it as much as I am.”
“We’ll see,” she replies before hanging up.
By nine-fifteen that night, the car pulls up to Alivia’s building. The guys wait in the back of the limo sipping on whiskey in their black suits while I get out to greet her at her door. I knock twice before she finally answers. Her hair is curled, her makeup done, and the deep purple dress she’s wearing hugs every curve of her body and stops at the floor. It’s only being held up by two thin straps on her shoulders. My eyes trail down her body, stopping briefly at the deep v-cut that reveals an eyeful of her cleavage, all the way done to the black heels on her feet.
“Is this okay?” she ask
s softly. “It was a four-hundred-dollar dress, so it better be. And by the way? This event better be worth the cost of this. I have never spent this much money on an article of clothing before.”
“You’re cute when you ramble,” I murmur and meet her eyes. “You look fucking amazing.”
She blushes and turns behind her to grab her purse. “Do you think I’ll need a jacket?”
“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Let’s go.”
I need to get her out of there before I say fuck it and take her back to her bedroom instead. My hand goes to the small of her back as we head toward our car.
“You guys got a limo,” she mumbles, mostly to herself.
“Yeah, Staffer is always doing shit like this,” I tell her. “Did I tell you that you look fucking gorgeous?”
She looks up at me as my hand goes to the door handle, and she whispers, “You did. Thank you. You look good, too, in this suit of yours.”
“Yeah, we clean up nice.”
I open the door for her and slide in after her. The guys hoot and holler as they look her over. Ayden and Dylan are the first to say something provocative, and I work to restrain myself from killing them in the backseat of the limo. I finish my second glass of whiskey by the time we arrive at the event. The red carpet is lined with screaming fans and photographers. The guys down their drinks quickly and prepare for the chaos to begin.
I put my arm around Alivia’s shoulder and put my lips to her ears to whisper, “You ready for this?”
“No,” she answers immediately.
I smile. “Keep your head up. Engage. They eat that shit up.”
“You told me to keep my head down a week ago when I was at that bookstore and the paparazzi were outside,” she counters.
“You keep your head down in those situations,” I laugh. “Here, we want to give the crowd what they came for. It’s like another show.”
She nods and lets out a deep breath as Dylan gets out of the car first, a tsunami of screams following. One by one, the others follow and the screams heighten. I climb out of the car and give my hand to Alivia. She takes it and gets up next to me. Immediately, photos are taken from every direction.
Alivia looks like a deer in headlights, and I lean in close to say, “Don’t forget to smile.”
I walk her down the red carpet, my hand at her back, and the group of us stops to take a few photos for the media. I’m asked multiple times if Alivia is my girlfriend. When I don’t answer said questions, they come back harder. We eventually make it into the building, away from the chaos, and the guys immediately head to the bar to get drinks. We follow, my hand still at her back, and when we get to the bar, I lean in close to her ear so she can hear me.
“I seriously can’t stop looking at you,” I murmur.
“Well, at least the dress was worth the money,” she teases, and I swear she leans into me slightly, her shoulder pressing to my side.
“Definitely worth it,” I agree before standing straight and waving to a bartender.
With a whiskey in my hand, and a vodka something in hers, we make our way over to a circle table where the rest of the guys are seated. Since none of us are big on speeches, ten minutes from now, media will be allowed in, and Staffer will go up on stage to thank everyone involved in creating our album. He’ll announce our tour dates, the media will release the information, and then everyone else will fucking party.
An hour or two later, dancing and drinking in full swing, I’m more than a little buzzed. I know Alivia is liquored up as well because she’s danced with me for the past few songs, her ass on my crotch for the majority of them. However, now with a slow song playing through the speakers, I have to pull her back to me as she tries to flee the dance floor. My arm goes around her, my hand pressing into her back so I can pull her against my chest. Her arms reluctantly lift and her hands go to the back of my neck. I sway with her, ignoring all the other couples around us.
“You’re the prettiest fucking person here,” I tell her and lift her chin up so our eyes meet when she tries to duck her head.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“You know I’m sorry, right?” I ask so softly, I wonder if she can even hear me. “You know I’ve regretted it ever since? And I feel even worse because I don’t regret my daughter, but I regret what I did to create her.”
“I don’t want you to ever regret her,” she insists quietly. “She’s wonderful.”
Alivia and Lucy have spent a lot of time together since we started working on the album. Whether I brought Lucy to the studio or if Alivia came to my house, the two always managed to spend time together. I often wondered if it was because Lucy desperately sought out a maternal figure, and when Alivia gave her positive attention, it was everything Lucy wanted. Obviously, my daughter is too young, so she can’t quite articulate it, but I have a feeling that’s the case.
“But you know, right?” I ask again. “I really need you to know, because you say you do, but I don’t think it’s true.”
She sighs and murmurs, “I know you’re sorry, Kyler. And I am, too. I shouldn’t have let my insecurities get in the way of our relationship. I should’ve been more supportive. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like I was.”
“Don’t apologize,” I tell her. “No matter how I felt, I shouldn’t have done what I did.”
“I think I was mostly angry because I know you’re a good person, and no matter how hard I tried to hate you, I couldn’t. That’s what made me the angriest,” she explains. “ With Scott, the ass, it was different. I didn't love him. I hated that I loved you even after what happened.”
“I’ve never stopped,” I whisper and wait for her to look up at me before I continue. “Every album, every song I’ve written, is about you. Even if you don’t feel the same, you have to know that.”
She narrows her eyes and says in a teasing tone, “There are some angry-fuck-you songs on your albums, you know.”
“Yeah, well,” I murmur with a smirk at her words, “it was wrongfully placed anger. I’m sorry.”
“We said we’d keep it professional,” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.
“Album’s done now,” I remind her.
“You’re right.”
I dip my head, hers tips up, and I feel her lips barely brush mine. Suddenly, Dylan’s there, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me toward him to tell me about how he’s looking to go home with some girl he’s met, but doesn’t want to make it known to the paparazzi sitting out front.
“Talk to Staffer,” I tell him. “I’m sure he can get a car out back for you.”
“See, I knew I kept you around for a reason,” he claims and rushes off.
I watch him go, suddenly too focused on his wellbeing to pick up where Alivia and I left off. I feel her hand slip into mine, her fingers interlacing with mine.
“Is he alright? He seemed a bit…” she begins but doesn’t finish her thought.
“A bit off?” I fill in for her. “He’s been acting like this on and off for a while. I usually let it go because it’s usually when it’s at a party like this, but I’m not sure.”
“You don’t think it’s-”
“I don’t know. For his sake, it better not be.”
I can see Noah at the bar watching Dylan sidle up to a redhead, his arm going around her waist and his head dipping to speak into her ear. He notices it, too, and he’s the last one Dylan wants up his ass about things like this. Noah is unrelenting.
“I might just try and take him home,” I find myself saying. “I don’t want Noah to say something and piss him off.”
“Are you sure he’ll actually go?” she asks me as I lead us away from the dance floor and toward Dylan.
“We’re about to find out,” I mumble just as we near him. When he looks up at me, I say, “Dylan, we should go.”
“I’m not ready to go yet. Plus, I haven’t talked to Staffer about a car,” he begins to argue.
“I think it’ll be okay, man,” I assure him as I
let go of Alivia’s hand to grab his arm as he stumbles. “What did you take?”
“Fuck off, Kyler,” he snaps and shoves my hand away. “I didn’t take anything.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I retort lowly and grab his arm to pull him away from the girl. “What did you take?”
His jaw clenches. His eyes are bloodshot, he can barely stand, and I know he didn’t get this way simply from alcohol. He usually can hold his own, but the state he’s in now only points to something other than liquor.
“I didn’t take anything,” he repeats. “Go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.”
When he shoves me again, I can practically feel my temper flare within me. Alivia loops her hands around my bicep, giving me a tug. Dylan’s my best friend, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hit him if I have to. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last. He’ll forgive me, eventually, and all will be well. I can see his fist clench, and I know he’s ready for it.
“Don’t, Kyler,” she warns. “There’re photographers around here.”
“Dylan, we should leave,” I try again, trying to suppress my irritation. “Please, just come with me.”
“I don’t want to come with you, Kyler,” he snaps back. “So, fuck off.”
“Fine, you shit,” I retort. “Don’t call me when you fuck up.”
Dylan flips me the finger before stalking off to the redhead once more. I stand there for a moment, giving him the chance to change his mind. When he clearly doesn’t, I lead Alivia over to the bar where Noah stands next to Oliver.
“Is he okay?” Noah immediately asks.
I shrug and say, “I don’t know, but he’s being an asshole. I’m going to head out. I’m taking Alivia home.”
“Kyler, we don’t-”
“I’m leaving,” I interrupt her. “Come with me, or don’t. But I’m leaving.”
She doesn’t say anything, just gives my hand a squeeze. I look at Noah, waiting for him to tell me it’s okay. I know he hates having to babysit the others because they get too fucking rowdy every time we go out. However, I'm agitated, and I'm ready to get the hell out of here
“What’s wrong with him?” Oliver pipes in.