Today, though, I’m distracted. I wasn’t thinking about any joke when he walked in. I was thinking about Harmony and how much I loved the feel of her body pressed against me, underneath me.
She’s the first person I’ve touched in, well, too long. Something about her puts me at ease, making me feel like I’ve known her for much longer than I actually have. It wasn’t like we were getting to know each other or exchanging pleasantries. Instead, we dove right into each other.
I nod at Angel as I chop carrots, but my mind wanders as a certain song comes on the radio: “Tomorrow Never Comes.”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I stop chopping.
Harmony wrote this song.
This is a top-forty hit. It’s a classic. People will be listening to it for years to come. Generations, even.
Why the hell is she still doing gigs at a place like LaRisa’s? She should be selling out more stadiums than Taylor Swift.
And if she did write that song, shouldn’t she be rich off the royalties?
“You okay, man?” Angel asks, noticing I’ve stopped working.
“Oh, yeah.” I swallow. “Totally fine.”
My skin tingles with excitement as my phone buzzes on the counter. I rush to check it.
The wind goes out of me. It’s only a notification from my Saturday night boss at the pizzeria, telling me I don’t have to come in tonight, that someone double-booked. I bite my lower lip as I set my phone down, and my stomach churns.
Harmony said she’d text in the morning, and she hasn’t. Part of me wants to pretend it’s no big deal, and that I have a heart of stone—which I usually do.
But Harmony managed to break through that hard exterior. I have no idea how she did it. I didn’t take her for a bold girl after that first night—she seemed much more on the shy side.
Angel stops halving and spooning out the avocados. He turns to me.
“Something’s on your mind. What is it?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Don’t be a mentiroso with me,” he comes back. “You’re all weird today.”
I shrug. “Fine. It’s a girl. Some stuff happened last night.”
He points at me with the spoon. “Jax found a lady! Oh my gosh!”
I roll my eyes. “It was one night, man.”
He nods enthusiastically. “That’s big for you, though, man. You haven’t had a girl since . . . well, since I’ve worked with you. Unless you’re being a little mentiroso over there, keeping things from me. So what’s the problem, then?”
I scrunch up my face. “Just some weird stuff last night. Her friends tried to stop her from being with me because I was bad news. And today, no text from her.”
“You hooked up with her last night, man?”
I nod. “I suppose you could say that. We kissed.”
“Aww, you kissed. You know what I think? She got what she wanted from you and now she’s good.”
“Nah, man.” I dismiss it, waving my hand. “She’s not like that.”
Angel turns back to his task. “I don’t know, man. These girls be savage sometimes. They’ll take your heart and stomp on it.”
My chest coils at the thought.
Wanting to change the subject, I ask him about his cousin Joe. I served time with Joe—and he was actually the one who told me to look up this place for work, and he hooked me up with Angel.
“He’s all right. Went and visited him last month. Still has a few years left, you know. He seems . . .”
Angel trails off, and I can tell he’s got a range of emotions pulling at him.
“Seems okay?” I ask hopefully.
Angel shakes his head. “Seems depressed, I was gonna say.”
I tense up, relating to what Joe is feeling.
“Hey, hang on a minute,” I say, going to my backpack to grab something for Angel. I come back, holding a book. “Next time you see him, you hand him this.”
Angel nods as he takes the book: Man’s Search for Meaning.
“I will,” he says, looking at me somberly.
Finishing the carrots, I move on to lettuce, garlic, and onion, fine-chopping them all.
At the end of my shift, my phone buzzes again, and—I hate to admit it—I lurch toward it like a middle school girl hoping to hear from her crush.
It’s not her, though, and my heart drops.
It’s Kevin. I answer it.
“Hey, Mr. Ladies’ Man. Hope you had fun last night.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“Oh, come on. Don’t bullshit me. I’m glad you were making use of the bedroom.”
“So what’s up?”
“We’re doing a little bar crawl tonight. You in?”
I hold the phone away from my ear.
Partying with Kevin is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid. And for the most part I’ve done a decent job and stayed on the straight and narrow; last night’s close call with the cops notwithstanding.
The truth is, I wish Harmony would just call me back so I could hang out with her. I know there’s the whole back-and-forth dating game you’re supposed to play, at least according to Kevin and my other friends who “date around.” You’re supposed to wait four hours to respond to their texts, make sure you don’t sound like too much of a wimp in every text, and a bunch of other “rules” that sound like bullshit, if you ask me.
I don’t want any of that. After Thursday night, I know what I want—Harmony.
At least I thought I did. Apparently she doesn’t want the same thing, though, if she doesn’t at least have the decency to text me back after a day and a half.
Aside from that, I wouldn’t mind stopping by Firehouse to give Mason a piece of my mind. I flash back to LaRisa’s, where Cole gave me a hard time, and then again when they practically knocked down the door to interrupt Harmony and me. Who the hell do he and Cole think they are, controlling Harmony’s choices like that? She’s a grown woman who can decide for herself.
“Uh . . . Jax?” I hear Kevin’s voice in the phone.
I clench my jaw and squint at no one in particular. Some deep-seated rage boils within me, directed at no one in particular.
“Yeah,” I growl. “A bar crawl sounds great. Let’s make some trouble tonight.”
“Hell yeah,” he says. “That’s what I like to hear. See you at the Watering Hole in an hour.”
10
Harmony
I stand in my room, gazing out the window and rubbing the back of my neck as I hold the phone to my ear.
Yesterday, I practically ran around town trying to find Jax. You’d think it would have been easy. It wasn’t.
After a pause, Rose continues speaking on the other end of the phone.
“You don’t even know where he lives? Why don’t you ask Malek?”
“I asked Malek,” I say, clenching my jaw. “He won’t give it to me. He just keeps asking me out on a date.”
“Ewww, what a creep,” Rose says back.
I think about how not being able to get in touch with me must make Jax feel. And how I would feel if a guy assured me he’d text me the next day—and then ghosted me. My stomach roils from the guilt of not getting in touch with Jax.
“Well, that doesn’t help me when it comes to getting his number. Also, why were Cole and Mason being so weird about him? You still haven’t really told me.”
Rose clears her throat. “I had a talk with Cole about that . . . he’s doing it out of love.”
I pace back and forth in my room.
“Out of love? What in the world does he mean by that?” Clearing my throat, I consider the early-morning conversation I had with my dad when he mentioned almost the exact same thing. “And that’s weirdly similar to what my dad said,” I tell her.
“That makes sense,” Rose answers.
I flinch, confusion ripping through me. “I don’t get it. Why does that make sense? And how is it out of love to tell me to stay away from a cool guy I really g
et along with? That’s the opposite of love, really. That’s controlling me.”
Rose lets out a long exhale. I wish we were on FaceTime so I could read her expression.
“Have you talked to your dad about all this?” she continues.
“Yeah, of course. We got into a huge fight yesterday after I confronted him for deleting Jax’s number.”
“I was going to tell you this when we hang out in person tonight,” answers Rose. “But I’ll tell you now. Your dad talked to Cole and Mason—he knows Mason from his liquor distribution truck route. And apparently Jax has some stuff about his past that is not good. Has he opened up to you about that?”
My heart sinks, thinking that Jax could be hiding something big from me. But that sinking is overpowered by anger that my dad would intervene in my life like I’m a child who can’t make her own decisions. “We didn’t get to that, no. And back this truck up. My dad TOLD Cole and Mason to keep Jax away?!”
It sounds to me like Rose was ready to gloss over that point.
“It’s weird, I know. I think he’s looking out for you.”
There’s a fluttering in my stomach. “Rose. What do you think? Do you think Jax is a bad guy?”
“From what I saw with you—very briefly—he seems like a good guy.”
I can feel my body heat rising. I grimace, feeling the confusion converting to rage under my skin. It’s not directed at Rose, but at our friends.
Why are they acting so weird around Jax?
Clenching my teeth, I finish the conversation. “I have to go,” I say.
“See you tonight at Firehouse, though?”
“I think so,” I say, somewhat reluctantly. “But I have to take care of something. I’m not sure how long it’s going to take.”
I end the call. Tossing the phone on my bed, I feel my insides boiling.
I’m pissed at Cole and Mason for going along with my dad’s idea. But at the same time, it makes sense that they would be so vehement in trying to stop us from hanging out. They weren’t just being protective—it’s definitely something bigger when my father has intervened and told them to keep me away from Jax. In a weird way, I admire them for the way they respected my father’s wishes.
My appetite has gone away even though I was starving before the call with Rose. My dad has always been my number one fan and my biggest hero. But if he can’t handle me making my own life decisions, we have a big problem.
Clenching and unclenching my fists, I realize that, like it or not, I’ve got to do something that makes me uncomfortable or get used to living in fear.
I head down the stairs, looking for him. But I only find my little sister sitting on the couch playing on her iPad.
“Hey,” I say. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s gone,” she says, not looking up. “I think he went somewhere with his friends.”
I nod slowly. “Where’s y—where’s Mom?”
“She’s outside, doing something in the garden, I think.”
Wringing my hands, I head out the back door and into the garden area, finding my stepmom sitting in the back, smoking a cigarette.
“Hi,” I say as I walk toward her on the grass.
“Hello to you,” she says from her lawn chair without turning to me. “Nice night.”
“Really nice night. Where’s Dad?”
“Your father went to poker night. It’s the first Saturday he’s had off in quite some time, and he’s had his hands full outside of work lately too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, biting the word honey out in a way that makes it sound the opposite of sweet.
“I’ve had to make sure he kept that bad boy—Jax, right?—away from you. Thank God he listened to me.”
My hearts skips several beats, and I clutch the pendant on my neck.
“You did what?”
She waves her hand in the air, standing up. Looking me in the eye, she continues, “Honey, I told him all about how Jax was trying to make a move on you that first night, and how you had to fend him off. Once I told him Jax used to be in prison too—boy, that set him off. He’s dangerous, and you need to stay away from him. For your own good!”
Looking down, my insides swirl with rage.
My dad wasn’t the one with the idea to get Mason and Cole to keep Jax away.
It was Lisa.
My blood boils, and I run my hand over my forehead, replaying the first night when Jax dropped me off.
The ironic truth is that Jax was so insanely respectful of me that he wouldn’t even hug me goodnight.
And on Thursday two days ago, he was the one who stopped in the middle of things getting hot and heavy to slow it down.
“Why on God’s green earth would you say that?!” I spit out. “You know that’s not true, not even close!”
Stepping forward, she patronizingly pats me on the head. “We need to protect you, little one,” she says. “I mean, after what happened in Nashville, I think we all know that you can’t really look out for yourself.”
My jaw falls, and I blink in disbelief. I’ve never told Lisa the full story about what happened in Nashville. The story that my ex-boyfriend and his new girl had robbed me of a number one hit was so preposterous, I figured there was no way they’d believe me.
“What happened in Nashville has nothing to do with this,” I say. “Jax is a good man, and I want to see him. And I’m going to see him.”
She clears her throat. “That’s very well, I suppose, since it seems you are hell-bent on screwing your life up.”
With my hands on my hips, I open and close my mouth, but no words come out. I don’t even know what else I would say to her.
“By the way,” she adds. “Sebastian’s personal assistant came by and dropped your guitar off this morning. He left it on the porch, but I was cleaning up there so I put it outside in the front.”
My heart drops. Sebastian is Blackwell’s only billionaire, and one of the only people around with a personal assistant. It boils my blood that he didn’t make sure it was delivered inside.
“But—it rained this morning.” I gulp, feeling my body start to tremble. No. She wouldn’t have left my guitar out in the rain. She wouldn’t do that. “My guitar didn’t get wet, did it?”
Turning to me, she flicks her cigarette. “If you cared so much about it, you would have made sure nothing happened to it.”
Pacing back and forth, my eyes feel like they’re about to bulge out of my head. “But I was out looking for jobs in town this morning! Which you and Dad wanted me to do!”
She scoffs. “Well, if your guitar was so important to you, you would have planned things better.”
My expression sours. “Is my guitar still there?” I ask desperately.
She shrugs. “I think so.”
Sweating, I run around front, and sure enough, my guitar is leaning against the house. The outside of the case is covered in a slick layer of moisture. It’s been humid and rainy for most of the weekend.
Frantically, I set the case on the ground and open the latches.
When I look inside, my heart drops down to my feet. Shakily, I reach into the case and grab the guitar by the neck.
There’s at least an inch of water in the case, and I might as well be taking the wooden acoustic guitar out of a puddle.
Feeling my stepmom behind me, I try to wipe the tears from my eyes, but my hands are as wet as the tears from gripping the slick guitar.
Whipping around, I turn to her, guitar in hand. “Why would you do this? This is just—outright mean! It’s ruined! Do you see!” Flipping it around, I try to play a few chords. It sounds like I’m playing a fifty-dollar, out-of-tune children’s guitar.
“Please settle down. You know you weren’t meant to be a guitar player. It’s time you moved on to something more sensible. You’re twenty-three. It’s high time you leave those silly Nashville dreams in the past and do something with your life!”
Tugging at my hair,
I stare at her, then at the guitar again, and then at her. “Do you understand what this means to me? I worked as a cocktail waitress for months to buy this! And now I can’t play it. The acoustics are ruined. The wood’s warped.”
“And you’ve been living with us rent-free for over a year now. So I think it evens out.”
My jaw drops, and I try to respond, but can’t. With my guitar gone, I feel like my number one source of power in the world has been taken from me. I feel zapped and lifeless. I can’t even find a comeback because her argument is so irrational.
Stepping toward me, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I know you’re mad now, and you have a right to be. But Harmony, I was once like you. Young and full of hope. The sooner you get rid of these nonsense desires—like being a pop star and dating men like Jax—the sooner you’ll be able to find true happiness. I know it’s hard, but you’ll understand some day.”
Pursing her lips, she stares at me as if waiting for a reaction.
I wince and shiver uncontrollably even though it’s a hot summer night.
Pulling up the fabric of my shirt, I wipe tears and sweat away from my face. She steps closer, her arms extended for a hug, and I back up.
“You don’t understand me at all,” I say, backing away from her.
“Even if you don’t understand now,” she says, “you will someday, like I said. This is for the best.”
“No,” I retort. “I won’t.”
Putting my now-lifeless guitar back in its case, I sling it over my back and walk away from my house without another word.
11
Harmony
I trudge from my house on the west side of town, passing the city limits sign. A train rumbles by. The rain is a light sprinkle, but I barely notice it, my mind filled with the swirl of my own thoughts.
Taking a detour through the quad of Blackwell University, I see a few summer school students sitting on the grass, reading. Ah, to be in college again.
To not have to deal with the “real world” just yet. That was the golden age.
My thoughts keep coming back to what my stepmom said to me in front of our house. It’s high time you leave those silly Nashville dreams in the past and do something with your life!
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