Playing For Keeps

by Weston, Dani

  “Why would he do that? And, for that matter, why would Julia send me this note? She was nice enough at the party.”

  “Getting you on her good side. Biding her time. Sociopaths have amazing social skills. All to lure in their victims. Plus, it’s possible she didn’t even know about you and Jimmy until that very moment.”

  I let my fingers play over the envelope again. The more Bea talked, the less afraid I felt. It all seemed absurd. Something that would happen to a stranger.

  “It’s probably one of Jimmy’s fangirls,” I said.

  “A crazy fangirl. Court, that is not someone you want showing up at your window in the middle of the night.”

  I laughed, but it was forced. My glance went to my window and I had to hold back a shudder. People did creepy things, for sure. I thought about my fangirl crushes when I was younger. Did I wish the girlfriends of the hot celeb I was crushing on were out of the picture? Sure. But it was all a silly fantasy. Even I might have gone so far as to write a note like this one, had I the time between school and guitar practice. Wanting things was hard.

  Then again, maybe not. Because stalking was nuts.

  My thoughts went to my missing planner and tablet. Was it possible that whoever sent this note took my things, too? Was in my room? I looked around, as though evidence of an intruder was right in front of me and I was somehow missing it. But everything looked the way I’d left it that morning. That didn’t cure the fear slowly taking hold, though. If someone had my planner and tablet, they would know where I was going to be. Could follow me. Could learn all kinds of things about me. Then again, the missing items might have nothing to do with the note. Some paparazzi asshole taking my things…a crazy fangirl leaving the note…my head spun. Screamed with pain. Keep cool, Courtney.

  I crumpled the note, the sharp edges poking into my palm, and tossed it in my trash.

  “The best thing we can do is ignore it,” I said, slowly. “I’m sure it’s a one-off. Probably meaningless. Shit, I don’t even have time for stressing about it, right now.”

  Bea pursed her lips as she stared at the garbage can, but finally she shrugged and tossed her phone back in her bag. I pulled my laptop closer to me and opened my notes.

  “Um, Court?”

  “Hm?”

  “You know we’re rehearsing in twenty minutes, right?”

  I pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “We were given a schedule after the shoot. But you weren’t there, so…” Bea dug a paper out of her bag and passed it to me. I read through the dates and times we were expected to be rehearsing or attending an event or, I bit back a groan, going to dance classes. It looked like some effort was made to keep our mornings open for classes, but in the next couple of weeks I was going to miss at least four. I looked from Bea’s schedule to the one posted on my closet door. There was way too much overlap. Shit.

  I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. This is what I wanted, right? My laptop didn’t make a sound when I closed it. I stood.

  “Twenty minutes means we’d better leave now,” I said.

  *

  I got through rehearsals and the group photo shoot—which Jimmy Keats didn’t come to—and spent the rest of my time with my nose in my books, stressed to the rafters that I wasn’t going to be able to keep up. My math brain wasn’t functioning as well as it should and I had to calculate how many hours I had to finish my Ethics and Law in Business Management paper that was due on Monday.

  Every time I ran the numbers, there weren’t enough hours.

  When we had Delta Gamma meetings, I found myself alternating between spacing out on what we were talking about, and trying to minimize the number of activities on our calendar.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to get a big enough group for the football game next week, so I’ll mark that off the list,” I said, as the DG ladies gave me quizzical looks.

  “We have twenty people signed up, we just need to make sure we ordered enough tickets and temporary tattoos,” Bree Hanson said. “They are ordered, right? I said thirty sets, last meeting, so that should be enough, even for late sign-ups.”

  I nibbled the base of my pen. I’d completely forgotten to put the ticket order in. I hoped the sales office had enough tickets left. Chasing them down would take another hour out of my day. I stifled a groan and made myself a note on the back of my hand.

  As if she could read my mind, Diya piped up. “Do you want someone to run that errand for you, Court?”

  I blinked. Why hadn’t I asked about that possibility? Where was the Courtney that used to be so good at delegating? “That would be awesome.”

  “I’m on top of it,” Bree said, shooting me a sympathetic smile.

  After the meeting, I went to the coffee shop Kaitlin worked at to study because staying in my bedroom was too hard, with my bed to beckon me to rest. When was the last time I’d gotten a good night’s sleep? Between guilt and homework and battling daydreams about sexy musicians, it had been a while. I downed a mocha in about ten seconds flat, and when Kaitlin came over to ask how my work was coming along, I heaved a huge sigh, my muscles all jittery from caffeine and stress.

  “This is what I’ll be doing all weekend,” I said.

  She twisted her mouth. “Um, you remember we’re recording Monday, right? The new single? Well, the old one you and Jimmy reworked. It’s really good.”

  “Shit.” I wanted to cry. “So we need to fit another rehearsal in somewhere, don’t we?” Of course I knew recording was coming soon, I just…had stored the info somewhere in the back of my head, behind everything else I was supposed to be doing. “I’m going to have to get an extension. I don’t know if I’ll be able to. McMath is a hardass. His syllable says he only gives extensions in extreme circumstances. It’s typed in bold.”

  Kaitlin put a hand on my shoulder and pouted sympathetically. “You have to try.”

  “Oh, I will. I just have a feeling my music career isn’t extreme enough a reason for him. How are you keeping up with everything?”

  Kaitlin shrugged. “I cut back my hours here by about five. It’s not much, but it helps. I’m just eating more PB&Js for dinner this term.” She laughed. “I get a lot of music practice because it’s my minor, anyway. And I’m not seeing anyone right now, so that’s a time-suck I don’t have to deal with.”

  Her words trailed off, and I knew it was an invitation to talk about what was happening with Jimmy. I tapped my notebook with my pen and stared at the page on my laptop, more white space than words in it. I did want to talk about Jimmy. To Kaitlin, to anyone and everyone. The way he’d made me feel was mind-expanding. But…

  “Yeah, that’s a good thing, probably,” I said, cutting off the conversation Kaitlin wanted to have. She stuck her tongue out at me and got back to work. I did, too, racing through my assignments with a half-assed effort that wasn’t at all like me. I pulled at my hair in frustration. Finally, I slammed my laptop shut and headed home. I would need at least some sleep to be at the top of my game in the recording studio.

  The variable I hadn’t factored into my work-hours calculation was Jimmy Keats.

  My phone rang halfway back to the Delta Gamma house. I was surprised to see his number. It was the first I’d heard from him since the photo shoot. I swallowed. I’d tried to convince myself I’d been too busy to care that he hadn’t been in touch, but now my chest started aching as I began wondering where he’d been. I had a feeling that if I checked the gossip mags, I could find out, but stalking Jimmy Keats’ whereabouts felt…creepy.

  He set my mind at ease, right off the bat.

  “Hello, beautiful. I’m sorry I’ve been absent. I was in Louisiana this week. Visiting my family. Payton Smalls went with me. You know, another guy from that terrible band you hate, World Wonder?”

  “I met Payton Smalls at your party, remember.” I laughed. “And I think I recall you saying he’s your favorite person in the world, after your Grammy?”
>
  “There might be one or two other people on that list, too,” he teased. “There’s this woman…”

  My heart fluttered. “Is there?”

  “I’ll tell you more when I have a better sense of things. She’s a tough nut to crakc.”

  I laughed. “Does Payton usually go back to Louisiana with you?”

  “Nowadays, yeah. He lost his own parents a couple years ago, you know.”

  “No,” I said, softly. “I didn’t know that.”

  “It was a tough time for him. But he’s worked through a lot of it. My family opened their arms right up to him. Anyway, I didn’t call to talk about Payton. I called to talk to you. I’ve been thinking about you this week. Was hoping I could steal some of your time away.”

  “Have you seen my calendar? I have zero time. No, I have negative time. I think I can fit you in…oh, sometime next year, probably.”

  “Ouch. I’ll have to talk to Duncan about that. He’s the scheduler.” Jimmy Keats paused and I switched my phone to my other ear. “I was hoping I could come get you tonight.”

  Another manic laugh began to work its way up my throat, but it died and left only a huge grin. “I mean, I really wish I could, but…”

  “I could help you study,” Jimmy said quickly.

  “What do you know about microeconomics?”

  “I know a lot about real world business, if that helps?”

  “I don’t think I’ll be addressing the best venues for a worldwide stadium tour in my paper.”

  “Fair enough. I could hold your flashcards, though.”

  “You are persistent,” I said.

  “I don’t like getting no for an answer,” he replied. “How about I come get you at nine. No one’s brain works that late at night, anyway, right? Besides, if you’re not sleeping well, I think I have the antidote.”

  “How did you know I’m not sleeping well?”

  “I’ve been there, Courtney.”

  Not exactly, I thought. But instead of disagreeing with him, I gave into the butterflies in my stomach. “Okay, I’ll see you at nine. And I’m bringing my flashcards.”

  *

  I shook my head at myself in the mirror and picked up a glossy pink lip liner. I puckered up, guiding the liner carefully around the shape of my mouth. That mouth Jimmy always set on fire. I filled my lip brush next with a rich cranberry color with shimmer and filled in my lips. I was careful to keep everything even. To coat my eyelashes twice so my eyes looked fawn-big. To color my cheekbones subtly, so that I didn’t look overexcited.

  Even though I was excited.

  I reached for my styling products, knocking over my cup of brushes and pencils in the process. I should have gotten ready in the bathroom, instead of in front of this tiny mirror on my desk in my bedroom, where the light wasn’t that great and I could only see half my head at once, but I wanted to avoid questions. If anyone asked me where I was going tonight, I would probably lie. I didn’t want to lie. Especially to my DG sisters, but how did one go about admitting they were answering the booty call from a famous singer? I could imagine their responses. Everything from thrill and good wishes to hastily concealed jealousy to concern trolling about how guys like him use and discard girls like me. How could I subject myself to that kind of indignity?

  Would they believe me if I said I didn’t care? That I was going because I wanted to, because I was a sexual woman and Jimmy Keats hit all my right buttons? That maybe I was using him, too?

  The worst, though, was the possibility that anyone would think I was sleeping my way to the top. My sisters knew I was talented. They praised me and my band all the time. But this was the kind of situation that would make even me, was I in their shoes, wonder.

  No matter. That was life in the public sphere, right? Everyone questioning and always coming up with the worst-case scenario. If Ladies in Waiting made it, it was something I’d have to get used to. I slicked the side of my hair with the small shaved section back and brought the rest forward over my forehead. I was slowly getting used to the new cut. Appreciating how it allowed me to look both badass and flirty at the same time. One more sweep of mascara and a quick scrutinization and I stood to face my closet.

  I pulled out two dresses. One, a form-fitting black mini dress with a lace panel inset at the stomach. The other, a strappy yellow dress with a filmy over layer that flowed to the tops of my knees.

  Diya walked in. She paused when she saw me contemplating my outfit, her eyes sweeping over me with dawning understanding.

  “Are you going out tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “With Jimmy Keats?”

  “With Jimmy Keats,” I repeated.

  “Does Bea know?”

  “That I’m going out?”

  “That you have, that you are.” She shrugged. “All that.”

  “Yeah, Bea knows. It’s okay. I think.”

  “You think?”

  “It’s complicated?” I tried.

  Diya nodded. “Yeah, I can see how it would be.”

  I hung both dresses back in my closet and rubbed the back of my neck. “You don’t think I should be doing this, do you?”

  She looked from me to the dresses, and something she saw made her eyes soften. “You should wear the yellow.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief that Diya didn’t ask any more questions and grabbed the yellow dress. Except, she did have more questions, and these worried me even more than what I was going to wear to see Jimmy.

  “How are classes?”

  “Fine.”

  “How are you keeping up?”

  My mouth paused over the sound of “f,” because it would be dishonest to tell Diya “fine,” again. My classes were hard. They were intended to weed out those who aspired to really good MBA programs but didn’t have the chops for them.

  With all the demands on my time, recently, between rehearsing with Ladies in Waiting, meeting with people, styling and photo shoots, I was getting weeded out.

  “Not so fine,” I admitted, sinking onto my mattress. “I don’t know how to juggle everything, Diya. My classes, the band, this…thing with Jimmy Keats. I should feel excited or grateful or…some emotion that normal people who are actually achieving their farfetched dreams should feel. But mostly, I’m tired. Freaking out a little bit. But I keep racing for everything, because I want it all. Is that dumb?”

  Diya sat next to me and put an arm around me. She was so good at taking care of other people. Everyone at Delta Gamma adored her for it, but sometimes I wondered where she got all that affection, and if it was a well that could ever run dry. Surely our random drama exhausted her. Especially since she was stuck rooming with me, probably the most difficult of the bunch.

  “Not dumb. We all want everything. You can schedule your classes and your rehearsals and all of that. But you can’t control your heart. Or your desire. Those, you just sort of manage as best you can.”

  “Stupid heart.”

  She laughed. “The rest, though…I don’t know, Court. Your music career is picking up a lot faster than anyone thought it would, I think. That’s scary, but cool, too. I understand how nervous it makes you, but if you don’t chase this dream now, when will you ever? Business school will be there if it all goes to pot. If you never go for it, for all of it—the music and the man—you’ll never have to worry about failing. But you’ll never win, either.”

  “Why are you so good at this? At knowing the right things to say?”

  “It’s the mystical way of my people.” Diya laughed again.

  I put my arms around her. “I like your people. Now, I’d better get moving before my hair goes flat. The last thing I want is photos of me showing up in random gossip mags bemoaning my terrible style.”

  11.

  Jimmy came for me at nine on the dot, and all the Delta Gamma ladies in the house when he came in and stood in the entryway, waiting for me, greeted him. It was probably uncomfortable for him, but he bore it well, letting me introduce him like he was so
me random guy I’d met and shaking hands in a professional manner, even though some of my DG sisters couldn’t keep the stars out of their eyes.

  The way he handled everything so smoothly was a major turn on.

  He held the car door open for me, then went around to the driver’s side. He loosened his tie slightly and unbuttoned the top button on his gray silk shirt and my body flared to life. I parted my lips. Would we even make it back to his place?

  His gaze swept me and he flashed a smile. “I hope you don’t mind if I get a little more comfortable on the ride over?”

  “Not at all. Are you glad to be back? From Louisiana, I mean.”

  “I like visiting my family. But I’m glad to be back in L.A.” He searched my face. “For one reason, at least.”

  Heat filled my cheeks and I looked away. “How’s your grammy?”

  “Keeping excellent health. She had all kinds of questions about you. And, some interesting info for me. Turns out, she knew Local Jackson, back in the day.”

  “I’m not surprised. He’d told me before that he’d played with just about everyone in Louisiana. I wonder if he remembers her.”

  “You’ll have to ask. Let me know what you find out.”

  “I will.”

  While Jimmy’s eyes were on the road, I took liberty to look him over. The more time we spent together, the more relaxed he was around me. I liked hearing about his family, about the things that mattered to him.

  I wanted to matter to him.

  He’d worked long and hard for what he had and he had a humble appreciation for his gifts. I admired that about him. It made a difference to me to discover that he wasn’t the person I’d pegged him for all those months ago.

  I had never heard about Jimmy’s mom’s restaurant because he’d never told a magazine. I hadn’t heard about his dad’s music or his uncle’s dirt bike track or any of those things because he kept those details to himself. They were sacred.

  But he shared them with me.