by Ali Parker
Somewhere along the line, I'd gotten onto a different page than the one he was on about what was happening between us—sadly, by no fault of his. He'd been perfectly open and honest with me from the beginning about what he wanted.
But hearing him say there was no one special in his life, that he was single and always would be was enough for me to realize that deep down inside, I really had believed that him being with me and only me meant something to him.
It didn't. Clearly.
He’d flirted shamelessly with the reporter and went as far as to tell the woman that if they weren't in an interview, he would have been making a run at her right then. All this was said right in front of me. I was standing less than ten feet away from him at the time. I'd known we weren't dating, knew he had hang-ups about the term, but I'd never imagined he would hit on another woman right in front of me.
Not that it mattered really. Because hearing him so callously confirm there was no one special in his life had already forced me to face that I truly meant nothing to him. As much as I wished I could have denied it or that things were different, I couldn't live with that. I wasn't asking or expecting him to love me. I wasn't that stupid or delusional, but I also couldn't keep being with someone who didn't care about me at all.
"Alicia?" One of the men in the meeting asked, pulling me back to the generic-looking conference room with its gray walls and round table at the studio we were meeting in. At least there was a potted plant on the side table in the corner, so someone had obviously tried to give the place life at some stage.
Unfortunately, they'd failed. Or maybe that was because my whole life felt a little more dull and drab without a certain lead singer in it who was sexy as sin and had a natural charisma most would kill for. "Mr. Adams?"
"I asked if there was anything you would like to add." The man frowned and then smoothed his expression and folded his hands on the wooden table as he waited for my answer.
I cleared my throat, pretending like I'd been considering his question. "There's nothing I would like to add at this time. I'll go over the designs your teams come up with once you email them to me and let you have my thoughts then, but your people know what they're doing. I have faith that they’re going to come up with something awe-inspiring for this album. If there’s nothing else, we're adjourned."
Nods were exchanged around the table and then chairs scraped across the floor as they stood, said their goodbyes and casual chatter flowed between them as they walked out together. I sighed, collecting the insides of the folder they'd handed me.
Walking around the table, I made sure I left the place as neat as I found it and was about to leave when a soft knock at the door had me jerking my head up. Relieved to see it was Gerry and not Jared, I cradled my folder against my chest with one arm and flicked off the lights in the conference room with the other.
"Gerry," I said as I entered the hallway and closed the door behind me. "Was there something I could do for you?"
"No." He smoothed his already immaculate suit and fell into step beside me. "I just wanted to let you know I've sent our boys home for the day."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Jared has been out of sorts. Thought it would be best if they took the afternoon off. I checked the calendar, and I didn't see anything scheduled with you, but since you're here, I thought I should tell you they weren't going to be around this afternoon."
"What do you mean Jared’s been out of sorts?" That wasn't like him at all.
In fact, I wouldn't even have thought he had it in him to be anything other than full-on, balls to the wall go at all times.
Gerry shrugged, pausing at the juncture of the hallway we were in and pointed in the opposite direction I'd already been turning toward. "I don't know what's going on with him. He says it's nothing, but he's not himself this week. I'm just hoping he can pull it together and come in tomorrow with his head back in the game."
He hadn't been himself this whole week? I hadn't known that. Nor would I have, since I'd been purposefully avoiding him at all cost. My job didn't require me to speak to him on a daily basis, so I’d decided to take the time to get my head screwed on right until I had to face him again.
If he'd been out of sorts all week, that meant I had to have had something to do with whatever was going on with him. Stopping myself before I could chase that rabbit down a path better known as ‘Wishful Thinking Lane,’ I smiled at Gerry. "Thanks for letting me know, I didn't have anything scheduled with them, but I appreciate you keeping me in the loop."
"No problem. You can take the day off, too, if you'd like."
"Thanks, but no. I have too much work to do. I'll see you back at the office?"
He nodded and headed off wherever it was he had to be.
The recording studio had confused me the first few times I'd been there, but I knew the place like the back of my hand now and made my way to my car without needing to think where I was going. Unfortunately, that freed up plenty of brain space for thoughts of Jared to invade.
Fortunately, however, my phone started buzzing in my purse, and I managed to banish all thoughts of He I Should Not Be Wasting My Time Thinking About. I didn't recognize the number on my screen and felt instantly nauseous when I recognized the sweet, simpering voice on the other end of the line.
"Ms. Diamond? This is Lesley Ann from Rock On Magazine. I did an interview with Jared last week."
How could I forget?
She was the reporter who’d conducted the interview during which it had become clear I was nothing but a notch on Jared's bedpost, probably not even a very big one at that. I had zero desire to speak to this woman, but it was my job. And I was damn good at my job.
"Of course. I sent over the pictures for you to choose the ones you want to use with the article. Did you need more shots of the band?"
"No, the ones you sent will do just fine."
Then why are you phoning me? I wanted to scream the question into the phone and then smash the damn thing against the wall, but even I could tell that would be a little dramatic.
"Actually," she continued almost hesitantly, "I was wondering if we could schedule another interview."
"I wasn't aware this was a series of articles."
When the publication first approached me, they'd pitched the article to me as a narrative from Jared's point of view of the making of the album so far and what Destitute was getting up to when they weren't making music.
"It's not. I just thought I could get some more detail and—"
"I'm afraid another interview isn't a possibility with everything the band has going on at the moment. If there were questions you didn't get around to asking during the first interview, feel free to forward them to my office, and we'll see what we can do to get you the answers you need. I was quite clear that the interview at this stage of their album process would be a one-off when that interview was arranged."
Annoying, uncharacteristic, and embarrassing as it was, that was my jealous side talking. I just didn't want her to have another interview with Jared, and the band didn't need it. It was also true that I'd told the publication when they first made contact with me that we were doing very few interviews at the moment, but mostly it was the jealousy thing.
But interview requests were streaming in from all over, and I didn't want to flood the media with Destitute just yet. My strategy since I'd started working with them a couple of months ago had been a more subtle one, and since it was working, I wasn't about to change it up now. Certainly not for this woman.
"I understand they must be very busy." She didn't sound disappointed or defeated, more like she was working another angle. "If you could perhaps just give me a way to get hold of Jared then. I tried to offer him my number after the interview, but he wouldn't take it. I really would like to get in touch with him."
I bet.
"Jared's been very busy. They all have been and will be for the next couple months." Their schedule was insane. So many people wanted to be them, to be famous, but the
y had no idea what it actually took. "Also, I'm not at liberty to give out any personal information of the band. I'm sure you understand."
Dejection colored her tone when she answered after a brief pause. "I guess I do. Goodbye, Ms. Diamond."
My heels echoing as they clicked against the tarmac in the parking structure while I made my way to my little red Audi, Lesley Ann's words played in my mind. She had no reason to lie to me, and I doubt very much that if she were, she would have admitted Jared had refused to take a number. Which meant she'd offered it to him before he came to my office that fateful afternoon, and he really had turned her down.
Why would he have done that? He'd gone so far as to say he would have hit on her if they weren't in an interview, and this must've happened once it was over. He had no reason to turn her down then, unless—
No. I stopped that thought in its tracks, but it was too late. Doubt was starting to creep in, and for the first time all week, I was beginning to feel bad for the way I'd talked to him that last time.
When he’d come to my office, I hadn't been prepared to listen. I hadn't given him a chance to get a word in edgewise before I was jumping down his throat and declared he was nothing but work to me. Was it at all possible that I'd pulled the trigger early?
I wouldn't have thought it was, but the information I'd received today pointed to the contrary.
Jared was so out of sorts that Gerry had sent the whole band home and had been like that all week. He'd also turned down an objectively beautiful woman's number and had come right to my office.
None of those things made him seem like a man who didn't care. So maybe he did care about me after all. Maybe he even cared more than I thought he did before.
3
Jared
Silence descended on the studio as my last note faded away during our recording session. I opened my eyes and focused on a faded scuff mark on the floor, soaking up the feeling of transcendence that lingered in the room after that song.
The lights in the studio were dim, and combined with the electric atmosphere in the air left by the song we'd just finished, it felt almost magical in here. Like anything was possible and everything could happen. Moments like this one made all the shitty practices, the failed takes, and the inflated egos in the industry worth it.
"Fuck, yeah!" Matt cheered, Nick and Caleb joining in.
Dom played a corny drumroll, grinning from ear to ear as he tossed his sticks in the air and rose only to dip into a mock bow. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all week."
"Not bad, boys." We sounded much better than yesterday. I still didn't think it was perfect, but I was clearly in the minority.
Half a bottle of scotch in yesterday afternoon after I went home, I'd accepted that perhaps my aggravation about the whole Alicia situation had been clouding my judgment in the studio. The mood in the studio was much better today, and I wasn't about to be the one to ruin it. Not again.
I wasn't that guy in this band. Caleb and Dom, they were a different story. Both of them had been responsible for raining on our parade and pissing on our batteries numerous times. I'd already fulfilled that role a few times this week, but it ended here.
All eyes in the studio traveled to mine, and Nick raised a dark brow. "Not bad? We fucking rocked it that time."
Lifting my hand to tilt it from side to side, I winked and put the mike back in its cradle. "It was okay."
Caleb reached out to punch my shoulder and rolled his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that. Even I thought that rocked."
"You would," I joked, enjoying the lightness of the banter. I'd missed it. Some of the tension I'd been carrying around all week had dissipated while we'd been playing, and I was feeling more like myself.
A feeling that turned out to be short-lived when the door opened and Gerry entered followed shortly by Alicia.
And fuck. She looked fucking fantastic. Golden curls tumbled down to her waist, accentuating her petite hourglass figure. Wearing a black wrap dress that tied around her narrow middle and showed off the tops of those creamy breasts my hands were suddenly itching to be on, it was like she'd chosen it specifically to flaunt what I couldn't have.
Long lashes framed startlingly blue eyes that, trying as hard as she was to hide it, kept drifting my way. Each time they met mine, I felt some kind of pang in my gut. Longing, maybe. Any lightness I'd been feeling vanished, and my mood darkened. Seeing her today was the very last thing I needed, yet Gerry was ushering her into the studio and told her to make herself comfortable.
Great, that means they’re not going anywhere.
"Great work." Gerry flashed us a genuine grin, a rarity coming from our serious, businesslike manager. The man was good at his job, but it was no secret that he was only in it for the money.
Most people did their jobs only for the money, I got that. However, some were lucky enough to also have a passion for it. He wasn't one of those. Passion for music was a quality he was severely lacking in.
"Thanks, Gerry," Dom said, usually the cordial one when it came to our management. "We should keep going while we’re feeling it. Did you need something?"
Our manager beamed at him, also not something I was accustomed to seeing. It was a little scary seeing Gerry like this. "The hype on this album has surpassed anything we could have thought it was going to be. We've just gotten news that a nationwide news station wants to have all of you in New York City next week for a live television interview."
Nick and Caleb high-fived each other, their grins threatening to split their faces in half. Matt launched into a slow clap, and Dom joined him, excitement rolling off them all in palpable waves. Live television interviews weren't unfamiliar to us, and it wouldn't be the first time we were on TV, but it'd been a while since we last been invited. It was always a good sign.
"We don't have time for that," I said. I’d promised myself I wasn't going to be the downer, but I wasn’t about to walk away from the building momentum we had going. "We need to finish this album. Taking a trip to New York now is going to push it back."
If the live interview requests were already coming in, the networks would keep asking. Finishing our album before starting promotional stuff like this seemed like a no-brainer to me.
Apparently, I was alone in that sentiment. Once again, all eyes in the room were on me, this time wearing varying expressions of disbelief, irritation, and in Caleb's case, worry.
"This interview is huge. The show books acts and interviews months in advance. Their viewership is massive. Doing this now will push you further up the charts later, even if it means pushing the album back for now." It didn't surprise me that Alicia was the one who took up the gauntlet I'd thrown down. We were at odds about a lot of things lately.
"I don't think it's a good idea." Squaring my shoulders and setting my feet apart, I braced for the arguments I knew was about to come. She'd never taken my opinion lying down, and there was no doubt in my mind she wouldn’t start now.
"Come on, Jared." Nick chimed in, his guitar still hanging from his shoulders as he stepped across the figurative battle line Alicia and I had drawn between us and right into my line of sight. "We'll take a little vacation in New York, do the interview. Recharge and come back ready to go."
"We haven't been to New York for a long time," Matt said, tapping his fingers on his guitar thoughtfully as he walked to stand beside Nick.
My little brother took his shot next, his voice much quieter than the others. "Maybe it would be a good idea to get a break for a bit."
I'd seen the worry in his eyes earlier, but I dismissed it. Hearing it in his voice now, feeling it aimed at me, I wanted to throw up a shield to keep it from getting to me. But it was too late.
The world knew Caleb as a moody rocker, one of their favorite sons of guitar who dominated on stage but never smiled much anywhere else.
To me, he was the same annoying dickhead who'd followed me around while he was in preschool, always tried to crank his music up higher than mine in high school
and who had gotten splinters and bled while building his own treehouse but never gave up.
Above all else, he was my younger brother, and it wasn't his job to worry about me. The role reversal didn't sit well with me, and for that reason, I heaved out a sigh and caved.
"Fine, we'll go, but don't come crying to me when the album isn't ready to drop by the time we said it would be."
Gerry didn't give the others time to react to my changing my mind and clapped his hands together. Gerry gleeful, as he was now, was a sight I never thought I'd see, and if I was being honest, one I didn't really ever want to see again. Pissed Gerry was one I knew. I could handle that. This was just weird.
"Excellent. I knew you'd make the right choice. We're going to dinner to celebrate. I'll have my assistant send you details."
"You're taking us to dinner?" Nick sounded as incredulous as I felt.
Gerry sighed, instantly looking more like himself. Much better.
"I know these dinners don't always go well with your reputation, but I made reservations. We're all going, and that's final."
I looked over to Alicia, catching her eye. She flushed and tore her gaze away from mine. God, she was beautiful. And adorable when she blushed. Strangely, she also didn't look pissed at me anymore. Interesting.
Waiting until she snuck another peek my way, I made sure I was looking right at her when I gave Gerry my answer. "Okay."
4
Alicia
“Thank you. I’ll wait for my party in the bar.” I wasn’t early for Gerry’s celebratory dinner, but everyone else was late. As usual.
A snooty hostess with a button nose and a very dark tan gave me a long once-over, as if she didn’t quite believe I was meeting Mr. Thomas and his party here or didn’t want me waiting inside her establishment for them to show up, but then she flicked her platinum blond braid over her shoulder and led me inside.
The restaurant Gerry chose was not a low-key place. Known for being frequented by celebrities, it was almost impossible for mere mortals like myself to get a reservation here. My mouth watered as I spied some of the dishes being delivered to the tables as I followed the hostess to the bar.