Interlude

by Chantele Sedgwick

  “A secret what? No!” I have to think fast. I wasn’t really expecting to tell anyone why I’m here. Should I? He’s a stranger. He could … I don’t know. Stalk me or something. “Uh, I’m headed to New York. Same as you. Just sightseeing. I’ve never been there before and wanted to, uh, see the sights?”

  “By yourself?”

  “Yep.” Ha. A rockstar stalking me. That’s probably the stupidest thought I’ve ever had. I’m sure he has his fair share of stalkers. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and find him watching me, a curious look on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? I’ve always wanted to see New York.”

  He gives me a I totally know you’re lying look and folds his arms. “I have a feeling there’s a story here.”

  “Nope. No story. Just a girl on a plane who wants to check out the Big Apple. Isn’t that everyone’s dream anyway? Why else would I be on this plane?”

  He smiles. “You can tell me the truth. I’m listening.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Let me go, leave me be,

  Rid me of these demons, I want to be free

  —J.S.

  I don’t know what to say to him, and I can’t seem to look away from his very blue eyes. I swear they’re like the blue sky shining above the clouds. I chuckle to myself. That was so lame. I’d never make it as a poet or a songwriter. I’ll stick to the piano.

  “Mia?”

  I jump as he says my name and snaps me back to reality.

  Wow. Jaxton Scott knows my name.

  I distract myself from staring at him like an idiot by flipping through the magazine again. “I don’t know you. Why would I tell you personal things when I don’t know you?”

  “You don’t know me?” He laughs. “I’m sure you could find out lots of juicy details in that magazine of yours. Or pull out your phone and look me up. You can find out anything you want.”

  I glance over at him, trying not to smile. “I don’t keep up on famous people like the rest of the world does.”

  “Really? So you don’t believe everything you read? Or hear?”

  “Not usually.”

  “Huh.”

  I shrug. “Famous people are just that: people.”

  He smiles, a touch of a dimple in his left cheek. Nothing huge, but you’ll see it if you stare like I am. “I wish everyone thought the way you do. That we’re just people.”

  I reach over and jab him in the arm. “See? You’re just a person. Like me.”

  Holy crap, I just touched him again.

  “Deep thinker there.” He smiles as he jabs me back. “So, focusing on you again. What are you running away from? A crazy ex? Crazy parents? Come on. I’m getting some kind of crazy vibe from you.” His eyes widen. “Not that you’re crazy …”

  I chuckle at the pink tint in his cheeks, happy to be the one not blushing for once “Crazy does sum up my life right now, I guess.” I twist my hands in my lap before looking at him again. “But who says I’m running away from something?”

  “I just assumed. Since you kind of avoided my questioning earlier.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. But, no. I can assure you I’m not running away from anything at the moment. I’d rather call it running toward something.”

  “Oh? A new life or something?”

  I shake my head. “No. Not for me. For my little sister.”

  He raises an eyebrow, the little silver ring in it looking twice as painful as it crunches into his skin. “Your sister?”

  I nod, not sure if I should keep going. But then I realize I’ll probably never ever see Jaxton again since we live in two very different worlds, so … Why not? And I bet he’s not going to bother stalking me.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He’s watching me, but I don’t look at him.

  “No, it’s fine. We’re going to go our separate ways anyway when this is all over, right?”

  “Yep.” He leans toward me, a hint of mint on his breath. “And if it makes you feel any better, I’m good at keeping secrets. It’s a talent, really. I swear I’ll take it to my grave.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Secret-keeping is a talent now?”

  “Yes. And believe me when I say I have a lot of secrets to keep because of my career choice. When you’re in the spotlight all the time, you have to have some kind of normalcy in your life. Know what I mean?” I nod, even though I haven’t the slightest idea of what it feels like for people to know everything about me. “People don’t know the real me. They just know the person my band and manager has made. It’s all a show.” He frowns. “All of it.”

  For some reason, I have the desire to touch him again. His hand, his arm, something to give him comfort from whatever it is that’s eating at him. Because under the smile and his gorgeous blue eyes, there’s a darkness there. A sadness, deep in his soul.

  But I don’t want to pry into his personal life. Instead I move the subject back to me. “My sister’s dying.”

  He glances up, his dark lashes framing his light blue eyes. “What? Why? What happened?”

  “Kidney disease. She’s in the final stage.” I suck in a breath and try to keep the emotion at bay. “That’s why I’m here. On this plane and by myself. I wasn’t a match to give her one of my kidneys and now our birth mother is her last hope. And, since she lives in New York, I thought I’d track her down. Hopefully.”

  He sits in silence for a moment, his brow crinkling into a frown. “Isn’t there a donor list for kidneys? Is she a good candidate for one?”

  “Yeah. She’s on it. She’s been on it forever, actually. And she’ll stay on that stupid list until she dies.”

  “How do you know?”

  I glance at him. “I just do.” The sinking feeling I’ve had all week graces me with its presence right then and I fight it from dragging me down. “There are a lot of people waiting for transplants and not enough people donating. We might get one if we’re lucky, but I don’t think we’re that lucky.”

  He sits there for a moment, I assume taking in my words. “So, this mom of yours—I take it you’re not close?”

  I snort. Which is super hot, I’m sure. “I wouldn’t go as far as to call her my mom, so no. We’re not close. How’d you guess?”

  He shrugs. “I kind of figured it out since you said ‘birth mother.’ If you’re not calling her ‘Mom’ then I take it you don’t see her very often?”

  I laugh. “That would be an understatement. I haven’t seen her since I was three. She abandoned us when we were little. And if my dad knew I was on my way to see her right now, he’d flip out. Like seriously.”

  Oh, Dad. What will you do when you find out I’m gone? The thought of him freaking out and coming after me makes my stomach churn. I wonder if he’s called and kind of wish I could turn on my phone. But I don’t want to get in trouble. And I really don’t want his wrath right now.

  “Then why …”

  I sigh. “Because she’s her only hope. She’s the most likely person to be a match other than me and my dad.”

  “Could you have called her? It seems like a lot to fly across the country by yourself to see someone you barely know.”

  I don’t miss the way he says “by yourself” but decide it’s not worth arguing about the fact that I’m old enough to make my own choices. I’m sure he’s made some stupid ones, too. And he seriously can’t be much older than I am and he’s flying by himself, too.

  “That would be an awesome phone call to make. ‘Hi Carmen, this is Mia. You know, the three-year-old you abandoned fifteen years ago? Can I have one of your kidneys? To save the other daughter you abandoned? That would be super awesome of you. Thanks so much!’”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Okay, you’ve got a point.”

  I take a deep breath, surprised at all the mixed emotions I’m feeling, and calm myself down. “It would probably be better to talk to her in person about something as serious as this. Seeing how my sister’s life is on the line. Know what I mean?”
>
  “Agreed.”

  I fold my arms and lean back against my seat. My emotions are dangerously close to the surface. Anger, annoyance, fear. I don’t know which one to focus on, so I clear my throat and force a smile. “So, since I spilled everything about myself, what about you? What’s your story?” I need to stop worrying about Maddy. I need something else to talk about.

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “What do you want to know?”

  I study him, wondering what to ask. Maybe I shouldn’t start with something serious since he seems pretty hardcore. My eyes fall on the silver ring in his eyebrow again and I clear my throat. “I’m afraid to ask, but …” I nod toward his eyebrow ring. “Did it hurt?”

  He looks confused for a split second before easing into a grin. “When I fell from Heaven?”

  It takes me a second to absorb the lameness of the joke, and then I can’t help but burst out laughing. “You did not just say that. Please. Tell me you didn’t say it.”

  He laughs, deep and loud, earning us a glare from the older lady across from us. “What? That’s not what you were asking?”

  “You know what I was asking.”

  He laughs again. “I know. But really. Do you think there’s any chance someone like me fell from Heaven?”

  I giggle again. “Stop. Please. I can’t handle it. It’s like I’m back in middle school with all the puberty-ridden boys and their dumb little pick-up lines. You probably used some, huh?”

  He puts his hand over his face. “Don’t remind me. Middle school was pretty bad, right?” He chuckles again and stretches his arms over his head before folding them across his chest. “Oh, I haven’t laughed like that for a while. Thanks for that.”

  “You’re the one that said it. I’d never think of something that …”

  “Stupid?”

  “Yes. Exactly. I’m all about …” I can’t think of a word. “Sophisticated conversations?”

  “Okay, this is when I leave …” He pretends to get out of his seat and I grab his arm and pull him back down.

  “I’m joking.” We both laugh again. I’m surprised at how easy it is to talk to him. It’s … Weird, but oddly comforting at the same time. Maddy will love him even more when I tell her about him. “So, tell me about the piercing.”

  He shrugs. “Got it about two years ago.” He reaches up, fingering the little loop. “It hurt at first, but wasn’t a big deal.” He nudges my shoulder. “But I’m supposed to be a tough guy, so take that for what you will.”

  “Interesting. I have my ears pierced, but nothing else. I’m too chicken.”

  “Eh. I’m debating on taking this out for good. We did it as a band. Kind of a spontaneous thing after a concert one night. I’m getting a little sick of it.”

  I’m not sure if he’s talking about the band or his piercing, so I give him a little nudge to keep talking. “So, why are you running away? I’m guessing it has to do with band stuff, since you know—the magazine articles are so right about everything.”

  “Ha. Right.” He winks.

  “But really. Since I spilled everything it’s only fair to hear your story now.”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have two hours until our lay-over, which gives us another hour after that to get on the next plane. If we’re on the same plane.” I realize this may not be the case and pull out my ticket to check the flight.

  He looks at it, too. “Yep. Same plane.”

  “Great, so no getting out of this. I’m pretty sure I have time to listen to you for that long. It’s not like I can get up and leave.” I glance around. “I guess I can get up and go somewhere, but the places I can hide out are numbered.”

  He smiles and glances around as well. “Nothing like being trapped on an airplane hundreds of feet in the air, huh?”

  “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t think you were afraid of heights.”

  “I’m not. Just … not super thrilled about them.”

  He’s quiet a moment and looks like he’s going to start his story, but he hesitates. “I’m not sure what to tell you, Mia. After hearing your story, mine will just sound stupid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re trying to save your sister. You’re doing something totally out of your comfort zone because you love her. That says a lot about your character already and I barely know you.”

  “But—”

  “You’re selfless.” He smiles. “Don’t worry. It’s a good thing.”

  I don’t know what to say, and with his gaze on me, all I can do is stare. I swallow, hard and look away.

  “Then there’s me. The screw-up who’s running away from his life.” He looks at his hands then links them together before putting them in his lap.

  I focus my attention back to the magazine on my own lap. I pick it up and point at his picture. “So the magazine stories. What should I believe?”

  “None. Well, some are true. To a point.” He rubs his hand over his face, and I notice the black fingernail polish on his nails is chipped in several places. He catches me staring again and laughs. “See? Dumb. I hate fingernail polish.”

  “Me too.” Which is totally a lie. I freaking love it. I glance at my light blue fingernails and notice a little spot came off my pinky. Sad. I frown and rub at it with a finger.

  He gives me half a smile as he notices. “Busted.”

  “Yeah … I sort of like it. ”

  He smiles again.

  “Okay, fine. I love it. I probably have around fifty bottles of fingernail polish sitting in my bottom dresser drawer at home.” I frown, thinking of all those colors back home. I wish I had thought to bring some with me. “I could totally give you the manicure of your life if we were there. I don’t do feet, though. Gross. Besides my own.”

  He laughs and leans his head back against his seat.

  I rub the goosebumps on my arms and lean back, too. The air finally turned on, so it’s pleasant and cool. “So, what’s your story then?”

  “Get ready to be bored out of your mind.” He grins.

  Whatever. There is no way this is gonna be boring.

  CHAPTER 9

  You look at me with your deep brown eyes

  You take away the secrets and lies

  All I need is you next to me

  To be the man I wish to be

  —J.S.

  “When I started this gig, I thought it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to get my music out there. To actually hear it playing on the radio and streaming online. Hold my own CD in my hand. But with it comes other things. I never wanted all this.” He gestures to the magazine.

  “Fame?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah.”

  “Then why …”

  “I love music.”

  “So do I?” I raise an eyebrow, not sure where the conversation is going.

  He smiles, his dimple showing again. “I’m probably confusing you more than making you understand, right?”

  “Keep going and I’ll try to keep up.”

  “Okay. Let’s start at the beginning.”

  I nod as a song pops in my head. “A very good place to start.”

  “Ha. That’s my Mom’s favorite movie.”

  “You know what that’s from?”

  “Of course I do. The Sound of Music is a classic.”

  Holy crap. I think I’m in love. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt.”

  “You’re fine.” He sinks lower in his seat and I do the same. “So, when I was in high school, I was in a band.”

  “High school as in … A long time ago?” I’m curious how old he is.

  “I graduated last year.”

  Interesting. “I start my senior year in a few weeks. My parents held me back a year because they didn’t want me to be the youngest in my class.” I frown. I could totally have graduated by now if they hadn’t done that. “Anyway. Sorry. Continue.”

  “Right. So, we hooked up as freshmen and played everywhere. We were goo
d. Real good. Good enough that we sent in our mix to a record company at the end of our junior year and they signed us that month.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty cool. Anyway, we played a few gigs just to test the waters and got a great reception. So, we started touring. I finished my senior year on the road, which was hard, but doable. Now, we had been friends for years. And touring together for two years was fun, but exhausting. And then there’s the fame that comes with it, and you know. It kind of goes to your head. Which is what happened—”

  “To you?”

  He chuckles. “No. My drummer. And my bassist. And my guitarist.”

  “Don’t you play the guitar, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Awesome.” Love a man that plays the guitar. I mean … like, not love. It’s sexy. But I’m not about to tell him that.

  “Parties, gigs, tours, huge venues almost every night. It’s too much. You wouldn’t believe how little sleep I’ve gotten the past few years. And when you’re on the road so much, you’ll do anything for a little sleep. And sleep anywhere too.” He shivers as though he’s thinking of some unpleasant memory. “Basically it all catches up to you. Partying, no sleeping, partying some more. Pushing your body to the limit isn’t good.” He rubs at his eyes. “All the makeup, the changes they’ve put us through. Things they’ve made us do. It’s just too much.” He laughs. “You know, all I want to do is write music. I don’t care about all that …” He glances around and sees the old woman with the heavy coat on scowling at him. “Crap.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his word choice. Ten points for being a gentleman. “So the black clothes and stuff wasn’t your idea I’m guessing?”

  “Ha.”

  “Interesting. So, is the screaming your idea of music then? Or did they make you do that, too?”

  He shrugs. “If they want you to sound a certain way, you have to comply. I just write the lyrics and the music. I don’t scream in all the songs, but a lot of them.”

  “Huh.”

  “Huh? That’s all?”

  “That’s got to be hard on your voice.”