by Bryce Oakley
A text notification dinged from her phone, startling her reverie.
She glanced at it.
Domino: Want to chat? We miss you!
She smirked and hit the FaceTime button. Who was we?
Dom accepted the call and Billie immediately saw that it was Zoey, Meghan, and Dom. The entire band, except for her. Her insides clenched in a mixture of jealousy and homesickness.
The women in the video began to yell her name and throw their hands in the air, exclaiming how much they missed her, as if it had been months and not merely a week.
“Do you live in Colorado now?” Zoey said a mock frown.
“Are you ever coming back?” Meg chimed in, her red curls braided into pigtails.
“She’s never coming back, you guys,” Domino said with teasing solemnity.
“Hey, did you guys really just call to make me feel bad?” Billie asked, a crease appearing in her brow.
“Yep!” The three women shouted, breaking into giggles again.
Billie pretended to cover her eyes with her hand. "Not fair,” she said in a mock-pout.
"What happened to your wrist?” Domino asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I scratched myself on my guitar strings. Vero patched me up,” Billie explained.
“Wow. She didn’t like, call a servant to fetch a medic to do it?” Domino joked.
“Hey now,” Billie said, raising her eyebrows to give her a Look.
A knock came at her door.
“Hold on,” Billie told her bandmates, then glanced toward the door. “Come on in.”
Vero appeared in her doorway. “Hey, just wanted to see you were up,” she said, leaning on the doorframe with a shy grin on her face. She was wearing an oversized sweater and pajama shorts, her hair undone and curling around her face.
“I’m up. Just FaceTiming the band,” Billie said.
Shrieks of excitement pierced the air, coming from her phone. She couldn’t discern exactly who had said what, but suddenly there was a lot of yelling.
“Is that Vero De Luca?”
“Put her on!”
“We want to say hi!”
“We want to tell her to let you come home!”
“Has she kidnapped you? We need to have words with her!”
“Is she as hot in real life?”
Billie glared at her phone, her cheeks growing red. “I’m so sorry, they’re total spazzes,” she said, turning down her volume.
Vero laughed, walking over to the side of the bed. “It’s okay, I can say hi,” she said.
Billie’s insides fluttered as Vero walked over, her voice dipping as if she was feeling shy.
Vero climbed onto the edge of her bed and Billie suddenly had the urge to hang up and throw the phone across the room, giving Vero her full attention.
Instead, she cleared her throat and angled her phone to get them both into view.
The three women on the video went deadly quiet for a moment, staring at the two of them in silence.
Zoey was the first to break the ice with a small wave. “I really like your sweatshirt,” she said with a genuine smile.
Vero laughed, looking down at it. “Thanks,” she said awkwardly. “I really like your hair.”
Zoey’s face lit up at the compliment. “Thanks! I really like your hair,” she said.
“Okay, not to break up a beautiful thing here or anything,” Domino said, lines forming on her forehead as she drew her eyebrows together. “Have you two written the song or what?”
Vero and Billie looked at each other for a moment, and Billie could have sworn that something important and unspeakable passed between them.
Vero shrugged. “Not yet. Still working on it,” she lied.
Billie pressed her mouth into a thin line.
“Billie can be such a pain to write with,” Domino said, nodding in understanding. “I recommend you both just write a song and then show them to each other. Sometimes that’s what we have to do. And then we either work on both, or merge them, or one of us — typically Billie — admits that the other’s song is much better and throw theirs out. That is, if you feel comfortable writing songs.”
Billie scoffed, shaking her head.
Meg and Zoey both rolled their eyes on the side of the screen.
Vero nodded. “That sounds fun. Should we try it?” She said, turning back to Billie.
“Each write a song?” Billie asked.
With Vero this close, she quelled the urge to reach out and touch her hair or run a finger along the delicate skin at the base of her neck.
“Sure. Let’s try it this morning,” Vero said with a smirk. “May the best song win.”
Another long silence stretched out on the call, but Billie barely noticed it because she was too busy looking at Vero, the corner of her mouth quirking into a grin.
It was fun to have a secret.
Domino cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Well, we’ll leave you to it,” she said.
Billie glanced back at the screen in time to see the three women on the video exchanging a look.
Damn, she was busted.
“We’ll talk later, Billo,” Dom said, waving with a very cheeky grin on her face.
“Sure,” Billie said, forcing a casual smile. “We’ll let you know who wins our songwriting challenge.”
Everyone said goodbye and Billie pressed the end button.
Billie tossed the phone onto the bed. “Sorry, they can be a lot,” she said.
“No, they’re really fun,” Vero said, brushing her hair back from her face. “You and Domino have exactly the same voice. I don't think I'd be able to distinguish you speaking on the phone.”
“We get that a lot. We even confuse our parents,” Billie said. She watched Vero’s platinum hair slide over her shoulder, how it highlighted the curve of her soft neck. She realized that Vero was sitting in her bed. The idea unnerved and thrilled her. If she wanted, she could just lean over and kiss her right there.
She cleared her throat and stood up from the bed. The night before had been an anomaly. Surely, they had just gotten caught up in the moment.
She didn’t want things to sour between them and then the songwriting to get even worse than it was.
Granted, she had technically written “Lost Love” with Vero, so her duty was done.
Vero shifted her weight, leaning back in the bed. She looked like a goddess, stretched out in Billie’s bed.
Billie shoved her hands in her pockets. “So, the songwriting challenge,” she said, trying her best to keep a straight face.
“Ground rules?” Vero asked, but the way she looked up at Billie through her lashes made Billie wonder if she was asking about something else entirely.
“Ground rules,” Billie repeated, clearing her throat again. “Okay. We need to have a finished song by noon.” She glanced at the clock. It was already nine in the morning. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it does have to be complete. Then, we’ll play them for one another in the music room, and decide where to go from there.”
“Should we pick a common theme?” Vero asked, her eyebrows raised in interest.
“Sure, like what you said the first day?” Billie asked, leaning back against the window sill.
“How do you remember what I said the first day?” Vero asked, laughing.
“You said you wanted it to be like a love song, but not one of those happily ever after ones. Complicated and raw and real,” Billie said, her cheeks warming as she said the words.
“Oh yeah, I did say that,” Vero said, looking thoughtful. “Let’s try it, then.”
“Okay, may the best songwin,” Billie said with a nod.
Vero bit her lip, causing Billie’s eyes to watch her mouth. Those lips had been so soft and warm against hers.
No, focus.
“See you at noon,” Vero said, standing and sauntering out the door.
Only Vero De Luca could make pajama shorts look like lingerie.
This was bad.
&nbs
p; A text notification dinged in, and she glanced at her phone again.
Domino: Wow. So you and Vero De Luca, huh?
Billie rolled her eyes and grinned. Had they been that obvious?
Billie: Just getting this song written, nothing more.
Domino: Sure. So, we’re going to be in-laws with Felix Lucas, then?
Billie snorted, and quickly wrote, “Never going to happen.” She threw the phone onto her pillow. It felt like a lie.
* * *
At noon precisely, she sat on the lounge in the music room. She had taken the last three hours to pour her heart out onto the page, adding the melody as she went.
It was nearly impossible for her to write a full, finished song in three hours, but the challenge always brought out interesting results, even if the songs weren't complete.
Her stomach swirled with nerves.
Vero was humming to herself, jotting down last minute notes for her own song.
“Okay, that’s it. You have to be ready,” Billie teased, giving the guitar one final resounding strum.
“Okay, okay,” Vero said, tucking the pen behind her ear. She had changed into workout leggings and a crop top that showed just enough skin to make Billie stare for a moment or two too long.
“You go first,” Billie said, resting her hands on the guitar body in her lap.
"No way, you go first,” Vero laughed.
“Amateur hour,” Billie whispered with a sigh, but the edge of her mouth quirked up in a grin.
“Just play, drama queen,” Vero teased, pulling her knees to her chest as she sat on the piano bench.
Billie opened her notebook, creasing the spine so that it would stay open before her. She adjusted the capo on the neck of her guitar, making sure it was firmly in the right key before beginning.
She had written a slower, softer song than usual. She picked at the strings, bringing in a western influence, but kept it pop with a rising melody.
“You keep me guessing,” she sang. “And when all is said and done, I’m the only one stressing. You leave me undone.”
The song’s cadence rose into the chorus. “I’m missing you and you’re still beside me. I just know that you’ll try to fight me. What we have is meant for here alone. And when the time comes, we’ll move right along. All we’ve time for is one love song.”
The rest of the song followed the same theme. An interest but a disconnection. Her hands shook as she played, wondering if Vero would know that it was about her.
She finished, picking out the last notes of the melancholy tune.
She heard a sigh and steeled her nerves, looking up.
Vero was touching the edge of her eye. “That was really beautiful,” she said.
“Thanks,” Billie replied, nervously shifting in her seat. “Okay, play yours.”
“Well, this is going to be awkward,” Vero mumbled, turning in her seat at the piano.
The song she began was lush and full, yet deceptively simple, using chords that filled out the song with plenty of drama.
“I’m scared you’re gonna leave,” she sang, her voice low and rich with passion. “I’m scared you’ve left already.”
Billie tilted her head. Had they written such similar songs without knowing it?
“They say I’m made of ice, that my walls are sky high, but you, darling, have melted my defenses. And now I’m defenseless. I come undone for you, even when I’m not wanting to. You pull the string, you light the match…” Her voice trailed off.
She played the last few bars over again, as if she had lost her place.
“You pull the string, you light the match, and I come undone for you.”
She stopped abruptly and stood up from the bench with a clanking of piano keys.
“Are you—“ Billie asked, but with her head down, Vero hurried out of the room.
Billie stared at the piano bench where Vero had just been, her mouth hanging open in shock.
“Vero?” She called, standing up to turn toward the door.
There was no answer.
She stepped closer to the piano, taking Vero’s notebook in her hands.
The song had so many of the same feelings and even words as her own. Whoever Vero was writing about, she was vulnerable — a hard thing for her to be, Billie knew.
She set the notebook down in disbelief. Vero’s mask had fallen.
A figure moved near the door and she glanced up, but her hopes fell slightly as she realized it was Felix Lucas, not Vero.
“Was Vero just playing the piano?” He asked, leaning against the doorway with a concerned look on his face.
“Yeah, she wrote a song,” Billie said, feeling as though she was downplaying its importance.
“She hasn’t played the piano in nearly a year,” he said. "Not since she broke up with Lara.”
Billie closed Vero’s notebook, not wanting her father to get curious and look through it. At least she could do that.
“You know, it’s not common knowledge that she dated Lara. Or women at all. So, you might want to consider who you tell that to,” Billie said, her shoulders squaring as she said it.
Felix gave her a long look, the silence stretching out between them.
Then, he gave a small nod. “You’re right. But, it’s just such a big part of her life. It feels inauthentic not to talk about it.”
Billie shook her head. “What I actually want to know is, should I go speak to her?”
Elena appeared beside him. “Give her an hour to cool off. She burns brightly, but not for long. It might help for her to calm down on her own.”
Billie frowned, furrowing her brow. She was determined to respect Vero's need to get away, but at the same time, she wanted to be the one to comfort her.
Elena walked into the room, putting a hand on her shoulder. “She gets in these moods sometimes. Best to wait it out,” she said. “Lunch?”
Billie nodded, unsure what else to do.
Jack sat with her during the meal, but Felix had disappeared. Jack chatted about music, talking about his days as a Fangs roadie, which was how he and Elena had met Felix Lucas and become the caretakers for the Telluride home he was building at the time.
She had the feeling that Jack was mostly talking to take her mind off of Vero, but it was an impossible task.
She picked at her meal, crunching on chips but mostly pushed her coleslaw around.
“So, you went from roadie to caretaker?” Billie asked, trying to seem more invested in the conversation than she was. Jack was kind, and she didn’t want him to think that she was blowing off a chance to get to know him better.
“A similar job description, if you ask me,” Jack laughed.
She smiled, shrugging. The roadies that The Shrikes toured with were a wild gang, and though Domino and Zoey were closer with them, she stayed out of the way, mostly.
“Do you ever miss touring?” She asked.
“I miss visiting new cities, but after a while, they all blur together,” he said, adding more mustard to his sandwich when Elena wasn't looking.
“Yeah, I get that,” she said. She loved touring. She loved the feeling of performing for people who knew every word to every song. She loved seeing people dance in the crowd. Smiling. It made her feel powerful, being able to make people happy with her songs.
She glanced towards the stairway at the front of the house. “You’ve probably given her enough time,” Elena suggested, reaching over the kitchen island to steal the pickle off of Jack’s plate.
Billie was out of her seat before she could even consider how desperate she must look. She steeled herself, and started up the stairs to see Vero.
Chapter Twelve
Vero
Vero paced the balcony.
It was as though something had physically split open inside of her while she was singing the song, and she couldn’t let Billie see what might be in there.
She pulled at her tank top, fidgeting with the hem.
She had made such a fool out of h
erself in front of Billie. Why had she even written that song?
At first, she had been writing about Lara.
At least, that was the intention. She was writing about how it began with Lara, how innocent their first curious kiss had been. Vero had never been with another woman before her, but Lara was openly bisexual, even in the band, and welcomed Vero’s interest.
Vero had fallen hard and fast for Lara, and at the time, it felt as though it was reciprocated. They spent every waking moment together, whether on the tour bus or the studio or sleeping over at one another’s houses. And the best part? No one ever wondered if they were dating, because they were bandmates, and of course bandmates would be best friends.
Throughout the tumultuous six months of their relationship, Vero had kept up appearances, publicly dating the men that her PR agency set her up to be seen with.
But Lara had broken Vero’s heart wide open when she began seeing someone new, acting as though they weren’t in a relationship.
Vero's chest ached even now, thinking about it. At first, she had wondered if she'd ever be able to love anyone again. She felt broken, like her heart had been ripped out and her chest remained hollow.
Then why did Billie affect her so much? Why had she let herself be consumed with the idea that Billie was right for her?
She had flings with women before Lara, but never anything serious. Being with Lara had been like a test — could she really date another woman?
It turned out, she could. And did. And loved every second of it.
Dating men, even fake-dating men, had always felt a bit like she was putting on an act. She was playing a role.
With Lara, she could let her defenses down.
And what had that gotten her, except heartache?
After Lara, she had worked so hard to reinforce those walls. To refreeze her emotions and her heart.
And now, Billie was threatening to undo all of that hard work.
The song had become about Billie, and it was only when she was singing in front of her did she realize that truth.
She sighed.
Billie would leave. She'd be gone before the week was through. She’d get her songwriting credit and she’d be out of Vero’s life forever.