by Jae Dawson
They were like ghosts. The ghosts of my past life. Kenzie, in stilettos and wide-leg white pants. Bix, my manager, in a sport coat with his arms crossed over his chest. And Devon. No, Dev wasn’t a ghost. He had been a fixture in this house almost as much as Gran and Gramps. But he’d been radio silent since my accident and arrest.
“No welcoming committee for your favorite people in the world?” Kenzie cooed.
“Sorry.” I shook my head, trying to banish my shock. “I just wasn’t expecting you. Come in. Sit down.”
“We’re already in,” Bix said.
“I’ll put the coffee on,” Gramps said, ambling into the kitchen.
“How did you get in?”
“Haven’t moved the spare key in about twenty years,” Dev said. “You weren’t picking up your phone.”
Right. Spare key. Dev knew all.
“Sorry, I was out with Gramps and—” I realized I’d completely forgotten Bella in my surprise. I turned and found her standing by the door, the uncertainty plain on her lovely dark features.
“I think I’m going to go.” She pointed a thumb at the door. “You have company.”
I took a step toward her. “Bella—”
“It’s fine. I’ll see you on Tuesday.” She slipped out, shutting the door behind her with a firm click.
See you Tuesday.
Damn, that stung. Not even an I’ll text you? Was I back in the “Ms. Pagano” zone? But I had more pressing matters. I wiped my face of concern and turned back, sauntering over to collapse into Gramps’ recliner.
“I’m assuming this isn’t a social call.”
Bix sat down on the couch nearest me, Kenzie next to him, Dev on the loveseat. Bix was the kind of brash, condescending, alpha-male type that talked over you, but you couldn’t fire him no matter how much you hated it because he got shit done—when it was convenient for him, that is. More and more, however, it seemed like he was sleazing his way out of duties and spinning his excuses into justifications. Like I was some industry newbie who didn’t know any better.
Clenching my jaw, I faced him. His coiffed brown hair was too thick to be natural for a man of fifty, but he was in legit good shape—he did Ironman triathlons in his spare time and ate only plant-based. That was L.A. for you: a scene filled with people who defied categorization.
But today, I knew Bix would be turning his go-to-the-mattresses intensity on me, and no doubt use my current situation to excuse his laziness. I fixed him with a hard stare and arched a single eyebrow. I was waiting for his explanation and was quickly growing more frustrated in the silence.
“Cade,” Bix began, and I almost sighed loud and slow. “You’ve taken your licks like a responsible adult.”
“But?” I prompted.
Kenzie leaned forward. “You need to get back to business, darling. The label has been patient enough––”
“And the label can be patient for a few more weeks,” I countered.
Bix tapped his fingers to a silent tune on his thigh, his head cocked to the side. “Corinth can’t. I can’t. You can’t.” He paused a beat. “Burning Umbrage was invited to headline the HBO Halloween Spooktacular concert.”
My mouth fell open.
“The fundraiser to combat global food insecurity,” Kenzie added, misreading my expression as confusion instead of shock.
“Yeah, that one,” Bix replied, nearly rolling his eyes. “The concert will be broadcast to HBO’s forty-three million subscribers. A huge opportunity, Cade.”
I leaned back in my chair. Woah. That was big. “When is the show?”
“Halloween night,” Kenzie said. “But there’s a rehearsal the night of the 30th.”
Halloween? Shit. That was the musical’s opening night. I couldn’t just bail on that, could I? Abandon Bella? She’d be crushed. The kids would be crushed.
Wait.
I was court-ordered to finish my community service.
“Can’t do the Halloween show. Legally, I can’t leave Hartwood Falls until my sentence is done.”
Dev remained silent. And he was staring at the carpet, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Way more interesting than his bandmate and former best friend, apparently. A flash of anger heated me. I had been through some tough shit and he’d been MIA since my arrest. What kind of a friend did that?
“Cade,” Bix began again. “You made a commitment to the band. To the label. This show is too big an opportunity to pass up.”
I bristled. “I don’t need a lecture on commitment, Bix. I’ve lived and breathed and sweat and bled Burning Umbrage for the past ten years. I’ve given everything to the band. The label—”
“You signed a contract. We’ll be petitioning the judge to lift your sentence. And if he does, you’re coming with us.”
“I don’t respond well to threats, Bix.” I rose from the couch, every muscle tight. “This is exactly why I took the deal I did. I knew you wouldn’t understand that I needed some damn time.”
The room fell into silence, and I realized what I’d said. Shit.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Bix stood too, advancing on me. “You said—” he looked at Kenzie. “This was the best deal they offered you.”
Shit, shit, shit. My mind spun. I could lie. Keep the peace. But goddamnit, this was my life. These were my choices. No one got to make them for me, least of all Bix. So, I looked him square in the eyes. “They offered to sweep it all under the rug if I paid a fine. But that’s not right. I needed to own up to what I did.”
Bix’s face reddened. “Are you kidding me right now?! You’d risk the tour, the album, everything we’ve worked for—”
“Everything we’ve worked for, Bix. You’re not in the band.” I shouted at him.
“You are a selfish sonuvabitch, you know that?” Bix poked me in the chest.
“Hey!” A gruff voice cut in, and I turned to find Gramps standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his hand shaking on his cane. “Who the hell do you think you are? Coming into my home and insulting my family?”
“Stay out of this old man,” Bix snapped back.
I saw red and shoved him—hard. “Get the hell out of my house,” my voice dropped an octave, “or swear to God I will beat the shit out of you.”
Kenzie angled herself between us, pushing on Bix’s shoulders, shepherding him toward the door. “Let’s go. We’ll talk after everyone’s cooled down.”
I was still shaking when the door slammed, my fingernails digging crescent moons into my palms. Dev stood and stalked out of the living room.
I went to Gramps, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” I searched his face.
“That guy’s a real jackass,” Gramps said.
I let out a disbelieving laugh, and the tension drained from me. “Yeah, he is.”
“Are you going to go talk to Devon?” Gramps looked over his shoulder. “You two are more like brothers than friends.”
I didn’t want another fight right now, but I knew I needed to clear the air between us. So, I drew in a wobbly breath and then headed into the backyard.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, my shoulders raised slightly. The early evening air was chilly. Still, I pressed onward.
When I found him, Dev was smoking a cigarette under the covered patio. My friend was tall and lean, with black hair loose in a shaggy, asymmetrical cut and a beard’s new growth shadowing his jaw. A familiar gray beanie stretched over his head—one I hadn’t seen since high school—paired with jeans, a button-up flannel hoodie, and combat boots. It was the exact thing Dev had worn every day of high school. Like we’d never left.
“What the hell is up with us, man?” I leaned against a pole, facing him.
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
“Playing this game? Really?” I huffed. “Fine. Here goes. I had one bad night, made a mistake, and my best friend went radio silent.”
“Sure.” Dev shook his head, taking another long drag. “A mistake. That’s w
hat you said after Houston. But what about the next time? And the time after that?” Dev threw his cigarette on the ground and rubbed it out with his boot, swearing under his breath. “I couldn’t watch you unravel while drunk one more time. I watched it after your parents died. I watched it after the Empire dropped us. I watched it when the pressure of touring got too much and you could barely even remember the lyrics to the songs you wrote.”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Losing Gran isn’t the same thing and you know it.”
“Not the same, fine. But I just couldn’t watch you drink again, okay? Trying to get you back on track, telling myself if I just did more to help you . . .” A muscle jumped in his jaw and he looked away. “It’s not healthy for me, Cade.”
I recoiled. Sure, Dev and I had been through a lot of ups and downs . . . but I had no idea that my struggles with alcohol had been so hard on him. Suddenly I felt like a complete ass.
My ever-present theme these past weeks: Cade, the complete ass.
“It’s different this time,” I half-whispered. “I’m really doing better. Something’s shifted.”
He leaned his shoulder on the house, his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Did you really pass up a get out of jail free card to take your licks?”
“I should have told you. But yeah. I just needed to do something different. Take responsibility for my screw-up, for once in my damn life.”
“I think maybe it worked. Watching you walk through that front door, a huge smile on your face . . . it was like . . .” His eyes narrowed onto mine. “Maybe all you really needed was for me to leave you the hell alone. All of us.”
“What?! Hell no.” How to explain? I stabbed my fingers through my hair and sighed, then gestured at the length of my friend. “Look at you. This is the old you. And you know what? It makes you feel normal, right? Or why else would you be caught dead looking like this around Kenzie?”
“She was too busy plotting ways to murder you to notice me.” That muscle in Dev’s jaw jumped again but, this time, he didn’t look away. Instead, he offered me a half-smile. So, I continued.
“I love the band. I love making music with you guys. It just feels like that’s such a tiny percentage of what we do these days. I can’t spend my days filled with all these soul-sucking ‘shoulds’ and ‘have tos’ anymore.”
“Feeling the same lately.”
“We’re big enough now that we should be able to set our own terms. Make it work for us. Or else why the hell are we doing this?”
“Even if we can make that happen, how do I know you’re not going mess up with alcohol again? Life’s never going to be perfect.”
“I broke trust.” Emotions knotted in my throat. “I own that, Dev. Not sure I can prove myself to you this moment. But I hope you’ll give me another chance.”
“Yeah.” Dev nodded, slow at first. “You have another chance. There’s a look about you right now. Haven’t seen it in ages.”
“Being here . . . I can’t explain it. It’s been good for me.”
“That pretty girl you came in with have something to do with it?”
I toed the ground. “Maybe.”
Dev heaved a sigh. “Remember when all we wanted in life was to get the hell out of this shit town? Make our mark on the world?”
I laughed. “We thought we had it all figured out.”
“We were idiots. Well, some of us still are.” Dev popped another cigarette, eyeing me humorously as he lit up, and I chuckled. Blowing out smoke, he asked, “So, where do we go from here?”
“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “Damned if I know.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bella
Sleep had not come easy that night. My body was tight and aching with thoughts of Cade, and my mind—well, my mind was spinning like a top.
Cade and I had kissed. More than kissed.
And in a costume shop dressing room like a cheesy Hallmark movie. I mean, my life has always been a badly written RomCom. But I never expected it to become Hallmark worthy. Mamma would cackle in delight if she knew this. Not that I planned on telling her. Our last conversation ended with advice on how to thoroughly please a man in bed. And the many casual lovers she had known since my dad left us. Just thinking back on that conversation made me throw up a little in my mouth.
Still.
I had kissed Cade Owens of Burning Umbrage. And it had been one hell of a makeout session. Just thinking of it made my blood race and my lady parts throb. In that moment, none of our past interactions mattered. Even after the crap he had put me through—the night in the woods, the viral video of him telling me I’d beg to kiss his ass, the first few practices together.
Those moments seemed like ancient history.
Now that I could see the grief for what it was. I hadn’t realized his grandparents had raised him, or that his parents were killed by a drunk driver when he was twelve. His grandfather was all the family he had left. My family on my mother’s side was sprawling and loud and an endless sea of cousins, aunts, uncles . . . I just couldn’t imagine being afraid of losing my one last family connection. For all the spotlights on him, this area of his life had somehow remained out of the celebrity gossip.
So, I had ignored the past and jumped.
But I couldn’t ignore those three people standing in his living room. I recognized Devon Hargrave, Burning Umbrage’s bass guitarist. Also from Hartwood Falls. The slick-looking guy and the polished-perfect blonde woman, I didn’t know. But I knew enough to realize their presence wasn’t good for me.
Cade’s community service was almost over. He didn’t live in Hartwood Falls, this wasn’t his life, his home. He was going to leave. And soon.
And despite knowing this inevitable reality on some level, I had let myself get tangled up emotionally anyway. Idiot! After everything I’d been through with Jason, I had made the exact same mistake and fallen for someone where I could only ever be second best. The music, the fame, the life, it would always come first. Always.
I threw off my covers with a huff. It was only six a.m., but there was no way I was getting any more sleep. I dragged myself down the hallway to the kitchen and got the coffee pot going when my phone rang back in the bedroom. I hurried to catch it.
It was Mamma. “Hello?”
“Cara mia,” Mamma cooed on the other end. “Good morning.”
“So early,” I protested. “How did you even know I was up?”
“Your Mamma knows,” she said cryptically.
Of course, a straight answer was too much to expect. “What's up?” I asked with a heavy sigh.
“I have the program design for your musical. Come by today to take a look, yes?”
I massaged my temple. “Sure.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I put every bit of effort I could into lightening that word. But, apparently, I wasn’t as good an actress as I was a singer.
“Come now, what is it, Belly? How have things been going with that beautiful man of yours?”
“He’s not my man. He’s just helping with the musical.” Lies, lies! My conscience sang to me.
Mamma clucked her tongue. “Have you still been giving him rides home?”
I threw a hand up in the air. “How do you even know about that?”
“This is a small town, cara mia.”
“People talk about me giving him a ride home?” I groaned. Sometimes I longed for sweet anonymity.
“I notice you did not answer the question.”
“Yes Mamma, I’ve been giving him rides.” Never mind that those twenty minutes had become the best part of my day. “His license was suspended. I couldn’t make him walk home in torrential downpours. I’m not a monster.” I sighed again. I didn’t know why I was dancing around this with her. I wanted to talk to someone. Well, I suppose I did know. If I told her, she’d completely overreact and likely give me completely outrageous advice. But sometimes, despite all that, I just wanted to talk to my mom.
I squeeze
d my eyes shut. “We kissed.”
I held the phone away from my ear as a string of Italian curses and celebratory cries assaulted my ears.
When the cacophony died, I tentatively put the receiver back to my ear. “Are you finished?”
“Did you kiss in a gazebo?”
What the? “Um, that’s weirdly specific.”
“Last week, I watched a movie and the couple kissed in a gazebo.” Her voice grew swoony and my mouth dropped open. What horrific parallel universe was I stuck in? This was unreal. Maybe Mamma did always know. She continued and I braced myself. “I lit incense and prayed to Freya—”
“She’s Norse. Why are you praying to a Norse goddess?”
“Hush. She might hear you. All the gods listen. So,” she cooed into the phone. “Did you kiss under a gazebo.”
I closed my eyes and squeaked out, “Yes.”
Hell no would I tell her about the changing room.
“My prayers have been answered!” Mamma was practically weeping. “I knew that ritual would work. I knew it was your time!”
“No Mamma, that’s the thing. I’m more confused than ever. I mean, he’s leaving for one. He doesn’t live here.” An important fact my raging libido purposefully ignored up until now.
“Details. If you love someone, you make it work. You figure it out.”
“We just kissed. He wasn’t professing marriage. Besides, yesterday, at his house, some people showed up . . . I think they're from LA.” My face heated at the memory of standing in Cade’s living room like the awkward outsider I was—forgotten the moment his real life had shown up. “I'm just afraid this is Jason all over again,” I admitted. “I need to cut things off. Before . . .” Before I gave Cade Owens my heart to break.
“Belladonna Maria LaSorena Pagano, why would you insult the moon, Freya, your Mamma, and ruin your chance at love? That poor seed of intention, all used up and for noth–”
“Mamma—”
“Yes, it might be Jason, but what if it’s not?”
“Mamma–”
“What if it’s vero amore?”
“One, I don’t believe in true love,” I rushed out before she could interrupt me again. “And two, I can't go through that again, Mamma. I won't go through that again.”