Instead, it seemed to make things worse. After nearly eight solid hours of taking my emotions out of the song, they criticized me for not bringing it to life. Angus would remind me of the heroine’s mindset, as if I hadn’t read the book or had somehow forgotten. I tried to give more, like he was asking, but it wasn’t enough. It was though I gave him what he asked for, but then he wanted something else. Griffin was even worse. He wouldn’t tell me what I was doing wrong at all. He just knew it wasn’t “right.”
Apparently the only one who found this infuriating was me. They were willing to put in the time to get it just so, even if they trampled all over my ego to do it. I was itching to be done with it so I could get back to my real life and the one person who made me feel perfect as I was. As late as things were running, I knew I wouldn’t even get a chance to talk to Jace before he took the stage for his performance that night to celebrate the holiday.
Since Corey was working, Iris, Jacob and I decided to attend the show for our 4th of July plans. There was an after-party after that, which would keep me busy until the wee hours on the east coast.
I just needed to get out of the studio first.
Griffin had gone for a smoke break with Angus, so I escaped to the snack area for a bottle of water. I ended up with a diet soda for a jolt of caffeine to keep me running for the rest of the night. Using that same “logic,” I snagged a huge jelly donut to quiet all the grumblings I got after working straight through lunch.
Emma joined me at the table, nursing a bottle of water while she polished off a container of yogurt and an apple. “Is Griffin always this much of a perfectionist?” I asked.
She smiled. “You have no idea. I’ve seen him work 18-hour days on one song. But those are usually the ones that win him awards, so I guess he knows what he’s doing.”
“I hope so,” I grumbled. “I’d like to get back to L.A. before the movie premieres.”
She laughed. “That’s the one good thing about working with Griffin. You’ll never stay in one spot very long. He is a vagabond who gets bored easily, so he never commits to anything long term, even a place to live or work.”
“I guess that explains his social life,” I offered with a teasing smile.
She shrugged. “What can I say? He considers life a buffet and he’s determined to sample everything. Moss definitely doesn’t grow under his feet. Tomorrow he could decide he wants Belgium waffles and off we go to Europe for a weekend. So you’ll be many things while you work with Griffin, but bored or stuck are not among them.”
“For the record, I am not available to work from Europe for a weekend,” I informed her. “I actually have a life. And I don’t mind roots.” In fact, I needed roots. But I didn’t say as much to her.
“Not many people can or want to keep up with him,” she agreed. “It takes a special kind of person to last more than a project.” Her eyes met mine. “I guess it says something that he’s chosen to work with you more than once.”
For some reason, her comment rubbed me the wrong way. “Should I be honored?”
She chuckled. “Griffin is an odd duck. Working with him, even being his friend, can be tricky for most people. He’ll never give you what you need to keep you anchored in the relationship. But if he’s still coming around that means he considers you worth the effort. I wouldn’t take anything he says or does personally. He can be a tough nut to crack.”
I had to laugh. “That’s exactly what he said to me the other night.”
Her eyebrow arched. “He did?”
I nodded. “Said I was an enigma and he couldn’t figure me out. I told him we were even because he confuses the hell out of me. One on hand he barely even looks my direction or utters a word. On the other, he’s recommending me for something like this song.”
“He respects you,” she said, as if I should already know that already.
“Then why a thousand takes? I keep trying to give him what he wants but it’s never good enough.”
She leaned forward on the table. “There is only one thing you need to remember when it comes to dealing with Griffin: he samples everything because he doesn’t know what he wants. He has these ideas, which can be pretty great in and of itself, but he is a master of trial and error to make it even better than what he imagined. He’s always pressing out of his own comfort zone and his preconceived notions of greatness. He’s the only person I know who can take something everyone else thinks is great and expose the mediocrity, simply because he’s ballsy enough to ask, ‘How can this be better?’”
I kept her words in mind as I returned to the studio. I swallowed my pride as I tried to see where he was coming from, but the clock ticked away and he still wasn’t happy. After his crack about my work ethic, I could hardly tell him it was time to call it a day because I had a Broadway show to attend. Six o’clock came and went, and then seven… finally eight. I barely even made it out of the booth to text Iris that I wouldn’t be able to make it.
It was nearly midnight before Griffin’s new honey showed up at the studio, at which point he was more than ready to wrap things up for the day. He barely said goodbye as he raced out the door. I was cursing his name the entire cab ride back to Corey’s apartment.
With Corey at the after-party, the loft was dark and quiet when I let myself in. In an odd way it depressed me instantly, as though I was the only person in a bustling city of millions. I went straight to my guest bedroom without turning on any lights. I signed online to see if Jace had finished his concert, but he was still offline. This made me feel even more isolated.
I checked my social media just so I could feel connected to something or to someone, but that proved self-defeating. Shelby’s name was listed among the top trending topics. Curiosity got the better of me and I clicked on the link. According to overjoyed fans, her return to a national stage was triumphant. She sang the national anthem, which all her devotees claimed was the best version of the song they ever heard. And of course her fans couldn’t celebrate her without trashing me at the same time. The hashtag #jordiwho stung a lot more than I wanted it to.
I pulled up the news article on her performance. Eddie and her father stood in the sidelines, clapping and cheering for her. I could tell by the look on his face that Eddie was pretty pleased with himself, safely ensconced within the Goddard inner circle. In fact some photos showed Coy’s arm draped possessively around him as if he were already one of the family. Eddie wore the same color tie as his mentor, as well as the same kind of suit. He was poised to step right into the patriarchal mold Coy had long before crafted for Shelby’s life. They even had the same haircut.
Eddie was looking more and more like a slimy televangelist every single day.
Worst of all, reports said that Shelby had dedicated her performance to her family who had rescued her from the brink of disaster, with Eddie “coming to her rescue when she needed someone the most.”
His plan was coming along just like clockwork. Not surprisingly, his personal updates were triumphant. “So proud of my girl! Truly the most beautiful and talented singer on the planet.”
He, too, punctuated the sentiment with #jordiwho.
Fans were extraordinarily supportive. “Forget that cow, Eddie! You’ve moved on to bigger and better things. Figuratively speaking!! #shelbyNeddie4ever!”
To cheer myself up, I checked out any news for Jace. His concert was similarly successful. His fans already knew not to trash me to him. He’d blocked more than a few whenever the scandal hit about my leaving my “happy home” to steal him away from Shelby. “An individual pursuit of happiness isn’t subject to public approval,” he had stated plainly for all the remaining naysayers.
I hadn’t addressed the issue at all. Iris encouraged me to brush it off like so much dirt on my shoulder. People were going to speculate, that was just what the public did. They didn’t withhold judgment until they had all the facts. They filled in the missing pieces with whatever they wanted to be there. If I truly wanted any kind of private life, I co
uldn’t chase after every negative opinion and try to convince them that my actions were being misconstrued. “You owe them nothing more than the music, Jordi,” Iris had said.
But it wasn’t easy watching my image trashed regularly because these people couldn’t find something more productive to do. I was easy to hate for all those who got something out of the hatred. These didn’t have to be my issues.
They just hurt like they were.
With a sigh, I checked Diego’s social media. I had tracked his profile down after our limited contact, figuring it was easier to get to know him as a casual observer than the unwanted intruder he had decided I was. Mostly he posted lyrics for the songs his band performed, a rallying war cry for the next generation for whom he played. But every now and then something might slip through that hinted at what was going on behind his angry, Goth persona.
He blended the two so seamlessly that it was hard to tell where Diego ended and the bassist for Catastrophe Rising began. But maybe I was looking for a seam that wasn’t even there. Maybe this angry, disenfranchised kid really was my brother.
His last update encouraged everyone to come see the band at their 4th of July gig, complete with an anarchist bent and an emoticon of the devil horns. I understood branding a bit better than I did when I was all of sixteen, so I knew that he had found a niche and a character that made sense out of his chaotic life and he was making it work for him.
He may have been angry and moody and hated the world, but Diego Palermo was no dummy. He understood more about successful marketing at sixteen than I did at nearly twenty. Maybe he had crossed my path when he did to teach me lessons I still needed to learn. It was far more productive than chasing fleeting ghosts all over the east coast. With a smile I set up my social media to alert me whenever he posted new updates. I’d find a way to connect with him. Somehow.
With that I closed my computer and went to the guest bathroom to soak in the tub. I didn’t think another thing about it until just after four o’clock in the morning when my phone alerted me to a new notification. Thinking it was Jace, I pulled myself up into a sitting position. Instead, it was an update from Diego, posted for the world to see.
“Do the world a favor. Don’t toss money from your castle if you’re not willing to risk your neck in the guillotine. #jordiwho?”
I read the update no fewer than ten times. My brain scrambled with damage control. If PING got ahold of this particular update, they would quickly unravel my relationship with Diego and Maya, and I couldn’t see that working out well for any of us. Was that Diego’s plan by posting this public update and purposefully piling onto the hateful hashtag? Did he want to add to the growing number of people determined to yank me off of any remaining pedestal?
I had scrolled through his feed before and never saw any mention of me whatsoever. Why now? Dread chewed at my gut as I scrambled through my contacts to call the number of the cell phone I had purchased for Maya. I expected to hear her sleepy voice when she answered. Instead I heard a very alert male voice. “Hello?”
“This is Jordi. Who is this?”
“Sonny,” he quipped, and my stomach turned just listening to his voice. “I suppose you heard.”
For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. “No. What?”
“Maya’s in the hospital,” he informed me in an emotionless tone. “Her lung collapsed.”
I gulped hard. “Is she… is she OK?”
“Yeah, she’s hanging in there. Your mama is a tough ol’ bird. But I would definitely recommend you coming back to Vegas. I mean, I would have called you myself but I didn’t have your number.”
“It’s on the phone you’re using,” I pointed out.
“I didn’t even know she had this phone,” he insisted. “I just came home to pack her some clothes. I heard it ring and I answered it. You need to let me in on all the decisions. I’m here all the time. You’re not. If you really want to help your mom, we need to work as a team.”
The thought made my blood run cold. “I’m in New York for business,” I explained. “But I’ll get on the first plane out to Vegas. Can you tell her I’m coming?”
I could practically see his smile through the phone. “Absolutely. I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. I know I can’t wait.”
It was highly inappropriate, but I decided to pick my battles and not call him on it. Instead I disconnected and opened up my computer to find the quickest flight to Las Vegas. I packed a bag of essentials to get me through, and then knocked on Corey’s door at a little after five o’clock.
He wore a sheet around his middle as he opened the door, wiping the sleep from his eyes. “What’s up, Jay?”
“My mom is in the hospital,” I told him. She had always been Maya before, but I couldn’t worry about political correctness anymore. After everything that had happened to me in the last few years, I didn’t put it past the Universe or Fate or Destiny to rip her away just weeks after I got to know her. There were tears in my eyes as Corey took me into his arms.
“Oh, hon,” he crooned softly and I sobbed in his arms.
“Is everything OK?”
I turned to see Jasper’s assistant Jacob standing behind Corey in the opened door of the bedroom. Likewise, he had a blanket around his waist. My eyes widened as I processed this new data. Jacob wore a sheepish smile as he came up behind Corey, placing his hands possessively on the smaller man’s shoulders. “Hey,” he greeted casually.
“Hey,” I echoed on autopilot. I had never pictured the two of them together, but now that they were, it made perfect sense. By some weird, cosmic twist of fate, Andy Foster Carnevale’s best friend had just hooked up with mine, thus tying our Fierce universe even tighter. Words were colliding, but in all the best ways possible. Iris, Jacob’s other best friend and happy merrymaking puppet-master for everyone under the Schuster and Beckweth umbrella, was likely beside herself. “I guess that was some eventful after party!”
Both men laughed. “We missed you, though,” Jacob said. “Are you leaving early?”
I nodded. “I have to. I just got word that my birth mom is in the hospital. She needs me.”
Jacob reached for his pants slung over a chair. “Let me get my keys. I’ll drive you to the airport.”
A half-hour later we were on our way to JFK, and two hours beyond that I was in a plane racing high above the heartland. I sent two texts before I boarded the plane. The first, of course, was to Jace. The second was to Emma. Griffin Slade could disparage my work ethic if he wanted, but his grueling recording session was just going to have to wait.
There were other people who needed me far more than someone who couldn’t even spare me a word outside of the studio. Respect was a two-way street. If he wanted me to show it, it was high time he started to give it.
I put the earbuds in my ear and listened to my sweet Jace sing as I dozed lightly, bracing myself for the bright and frightening chaos that was Las Vegas.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Las Vegas, Nevada
July 5, 2012
By the time I stepped off the plane early that afternoon, Jace had already texted me back. He had set up a reservation at a hotel for me and arranged for a car. As I approached the rental counter, however, I saw the true surprise. My love stood there, as incognito as he could possibly get in a ball cap, sunglasses and full length jeans, waiting for me with a key in his hand.
I flew into his arms and he picked me up into a huge bear hug. “Jace,” I breathed as the tears flowed. I had needed him and he was there. I had never doubted he was my soul’s mate, and this was exactly why. He had always been everything I needed exactly when I needed it.
He scanned the crowd to make sure we didn’t draw any unwanted attention, then grabbed my bag in one hand and wrapped the other arm around me to guide me out toward the car. I held onto his hand all the way to the hotel. He had already checked us in so he could corral me directly to the room. It was another VIP suite filled with dozens of fragrant flowers in bright, cheerful color
s. The minute I saw them, I burst into fresh tears.
“Hey,” he said softly as he enveloped me into a warm, strong, comforting hug. “It’ll be OK.”
I held onto him for dear life. He was my anchor to sanity, which is why I usually felt so lost without him. He kissed the top of my head and crooned softly against my hair. “I’m so glad you came,” I finally sniffed as soon as I could catch my breath.
“You needed me,” he said simply. “Where else would I be?”
I tightened my arms around him. After such a crappy trip to New York, I needed him more than ever. And like magic he was there in my arms once again.
I took about five minutes to freshen up before we headed to the hospital. Jace took control of everything, even moving Maya out of a semi-private room into her own private room in a more secluded part of the hospital. Once the staff understood what kind of press her admittance could spark, they were accommodating to most of our requests.
I fought the impulse to restrict Sonny’s access. I knew that would be more upsetting to Maya in her current physical state. Moving her from room to room was stressful enough for the frail, weakened woman hooked to so many tubes and wires she looked like she wasn’t wholly human anymore. Her hand shook as she reached out to me the minute she spotted me walk through the door.
I rushed to the bed, taking her hand in mine. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better now,” she managed to eke out. “But you didn’t have to come.”
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